


Ghost in the Machine

by Illeana Starbright (SunlightOnTheWater)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 49,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightOnTheWater/pseuds/Illeana%20Starbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond Miles died to save the world, but maybe he didn't have to. When an Apple of Eden shows a young Desmond his future, Minerva and Juno's game gets turned on its head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As a quick note before you begin reading, I've never actually played Assassin's Creed. I ended up watching the games on Youtube, got sucked in, and... well I can blame Riona's Visitors and the game story lines in general for getting sucked in.

He found it when he was thirteen. It was an unremarkable, round piece of metal but it glowed like gold when his fingers wrapped around it. The mystery was enough for him to forget about his knees, scraped from the fall and the way his eyes burned from crying until he was out of tears. That was before the light turned blinding and poured what felt like lava into his mind. Once the pain and light receded, leaving only knowledge behind, Desmond Miles blinked twice and then spit out a word that would have once had his mother looking scandalized. The sphere glowed with a warm and comforting light that belied what it had just dumped into his mind. Desmond wanted to drop it but the muscles in his hands felt like they were frozen solid, leaving him clutching the stupid thing.

It was a struggle to push himself upright, muscles screaming in protest and the sphere clutched in his hand. Desmond made it to his knees, dirt smeared across the stomach of his raggedy shirt from the fall, before freezing. There was a young woman sitting cross legged in front of him. Her dark hair drifted over one shoulder and her lavender eyes were fixed patiently on him as if she'd been sitting there the whole time, just waiting for him to move. Pale pink lips tilted up in a slight smile and Desmond found himself scrambling backwards, heart rising up to his throat to choke him with panic. The smile faded away and she folded tanned hands in her lap, her entire form flickering a little. "Hello Desmond," she said, voice soft and sweet.

Desmond froze, eyes widening and breath catching in his throat. He wished desperately for a weapon, anything to defend himself with, but his father said he wasn't good enough to carry one. She looked down at her folded hands when he didn't respond, something in her face falling. Desmond might not have been good with anything else, but he could read people. It was why he was here, staying away from home until the sting of another failed assassin mission and the anger that hid underneath had worn away from his father. While it might not have been a skill anyone wanted for an assassin, especially the Mentor's son, but it wasn't something Desmond could just turn off. He saw people's emotions painted on their faces plain as day but he didn't use it for anything but avoiding as much of his father's anger as he could.

"I'm sorry," the young woman said at last, voice delicately laying waste to the silence surrounding them. "I didn't mean for things to be like this."

"Be like what?" Desmond croaked out, voice rough from all the sobs that had escaped him as he'd run.

"This." She looked up and gestured with a single hand at towards the sphere in his hand. There was a sad little smile on her face as she dropped her hand back to her lap and Desmond allowed himself to relax a bit. "My plan was not intended to hurt," she added, eyes staring into the distance somewhere beyond his left shoulder. She was considering something, likely something that had to do with him, and Desmond waited warily for whatever would come next. Ever since his mother had left, any consideration towards him had not been good. Her gaze turned to meet his directly after a moment and her eyes welled with tears as she said, "I wish you didn't have to go through this."

"Through what?" Desmond questioned uncertainly and her teary gaze dropped to the object still clutched in his hand. He followed her gaze and then looked back at her, utterly confused.

"What the Apple told you is the truth of what will happen," she told him solemnly and Desmond closed his eyes for a moment, seeing running away at sixteen and Abstergo and Lucy lying dead on the floor as they raced towards the end of the world.

"Why?" he croaked out, feeling his own eyes well with helpless tears. It hurt to start crying again after all the tears he'd shed earlier but he couldn't stop them from dripping down his cheeks. In the face of all that, what could he do?

"You didn't have the full story laid before you last time," she told him. "And you died to save the world."

"H-how is me knowing this going to change anything?" Desmond spit out, tears dripping off his chin as his body shook with silent sobs. Now he knew he was never going to escape his father, not really. He'd run away and just get sucked back in because he had been unlucky enough to be born Desmond Miles.

"There are other choices," she replied, stretching a hand out towards him with her palm up. "I can show you." Slowly Desmond reached out a shaking hand, placing it lightly on her palm. The world around him rushed away, like it was being sucked into a vacuum, and he was staring at something glowing gently. "This is the Shard of Eden, capable of creating a shield that protects the one who holds it," the young woman's voice said as the Shard rotated so Desmond could take it in completely. "Like the Apples of Eden, the Shard is a remnant of my family's technology before they forgot who we truly are. Should the Shard be in Abstergo's satellite when it is launched instead of one of the Apples, the Earth would be shielded from the coming doom."

"What do you expect me to do?" Desmond asked, drawing his hand away and wrapping his arms protectively around his stomach. "I can't do anything right."

A gentle hand slipped under his chin, ignoring his startled flinch, and drew his gaze upwards to meet kind lavender eyes. "Desmond Miles, you are an amazing human being. Not just anyone would be willing to give their life up for a world that would never know about the sacrifice. Not just anyone would be able to hold on while the Bleeding Effect and guilt tore through them because the world was at stake." A pause and then, "Your father is a fool for not being able to understand what a gift you are." Her hand slipped away from his chin and she settled back into her previous position across from him.

"I can't," Desmond retorted, shaking his head and staring down at his feet. "I can't do it. Finding the Shard, getting it inside the satellite of doom in a few years, saving the world? I can't do it."

"Maybe not alone," she admitted. "But you don't have to do this alone."

"You mean y-you'll h-help?" Desmond stammered out nervously. Since his father had taken over the role of Mentor just a few months ago, asking for help had gone from something that was strongly disapproved of to something forbidden. The reasoning Desmond had heard was that the Mentor's son shouldn't be weak enough to need to ask for assistance, but if it was freely offered...

"When I can," she replied with a small smile. "But I am limited by my sisters. They wish to see the game played by their rules, and I am interfering with that. One of my brothers can keep them busy for a time, but I cannot ask that of him often. It is unfair."

"Then who?" Desmond asked hopelessly. He didn't have any friends at the Farm, because cultivating friendships took time away from much more important assassin training, so there wasn't any help for him coming. No one he could count on.

"The Apple already showed you." Desmond stared at her, confused, and she nodded at him encouragingly. He didn't see any sign of deceit written on her face or in her body language so he hesitantly closed his eyes, trying to sort through what the Apple had given him. A face suddenly lunged forward, as if burned into him. Blonde hair pulled back in a bun, lips pulled into a worried frown, a little spatter of blood on her shirt, and her blue eyes urging him forward.

"Lucy," he breathed, eyes snapping open, and the young woman's smile widened.

"Lucy Stillman will arrive at the Farm in exactly four months and seven days." Desmond felt a smile curve across his face, his chest bubbling up with emotion that he didn't dare put a name to.

"Good," she praised and, for a moment, Desmond beamed at her. "But there's someone else you need help from too." Her hand stretched out, palm up once more and he stretched his own hand without hesitation. He regretted it almost instantly.

" _No,"_ he gasped out in blind panic, hand cradled protectively against his chest as if she'd damaged it with just a touch.

"He's lost, Desmond," she chided gently. "And making all the wrong choices because of it. Should people continue to allow him to be lost, he will continue on the path Abstergo set for him. He deserves another chance just as anyone else does."

"He's already killed a Mentor," Desmond retorted, voice high with panic. "What makes you think he'll actually stop to listen to anything I have to say?"

"The Apple," she replied, tilting her head towards it. "You can use it to control the actions of others."

"How?" Desmond tilted the Apple back and forth before forcing his hand to release it, letting it drop into his other palm.

"You'll know when the time comes," she replied, standing gracefully as her full form flickered. Desmond scrambled to his feet as well, intending to follow her wherever she intended to go. "I cannot stay Desmond," she told him, her hand resting on his shoulder to keep him where he was. "My brother can only turn the gazes of my sisters away from Earth for so long and I am running out of time."

"You can't go," Desmond protested. "I don't even know who you are."

She hesitated, form solidifying briefly as her hand dropped away from his shoulder. "You may call me Luna." She was fading quickly now, little more than a ghost, and when Desmond reached out to try to stop her from leaving, his hand slipped straight through her shoulder. "Rest easy, Desmond," she told him, voice whispering on the wind. "I will return as soon as I can." Then she was gone, leaving him alone in the woods with the Apple in his hands.

The air had cooled since he'd fled the main compound, sun sinking low on the horizon. It had reached the point of fall when temperatures dropped drastically in the evening, heralding even colder weather soon to come. If Desmond remained outside much longer, he would likely fall ill, which would leads to more problems with his father. He wasn't eager to cause more problems through his body's inadequacy, especially not if Lucy was coming soon. Four months might seem like a long time but Desmond knew that the slightest misstep could have him confined until spring came around again, and by then it might be far too late to talk to her. Keeping that thought in mind, Desmond spun on his heel and sprinted back towards the Farm. With any luck he could slip inside his room before the Mentor's duties were finished today and avoid punishment for yet another of his failings.

The house was dark when he arrived but he still opened the door cautiously. More than once his father had been sitting in complete darkness at the kitchen table, just waiting for his failure of a son to return. Desmond prayed to any higher being that might be listening that tonight was not one of those nights. He was lucky. The house was just as empty as it looked from the outside and he crept through it on bare feet, shoes abandoned on the front porch. He undressed without turning on a light, the Apple glowing softly until he placed it on the bed. Untouched and illuminated by moonlight, it appeared to be just a sphere of useless metal. It was hard to believe, looking at it now, that it had one tenth of the power the information it had poured into his head suggested then it could help change the fate of the world. He needed to hide it.

Desmond carefully slid under his bed and pried up the loose floorboard. Underneath was a small wooden box his mother had given him in happier times, when she'd still been living with them. Inside was a faded photograph of his family, together and happy. Underneath the photograph was his mother's wedding ring on a silver chain. She'd slipped it into his hand when she'd kissed him goodbye, her sign to him that she would not return. Desmond brought the box out and placed it next to the Apple, relieved when he found it would fit inside. He hesitated a moment, wondering whether or not he could find a better hiding place for it.

The sound of the front door to the house opening made up his mind. He didn't have time to find a better hiding spot. If he was going to keep the Apple from his father, he needed to hide it fast and slip into bed in an attempt to avoid punishment. Grabbing the Apple and ignoring the warm glow it was suddenly giving off again, Desmond shoved it into the box, shut it, and scrambled under his bed to tuck it away. Once the loose floorboard was back in place, he squirmed out from under the bed and scrambled under the covers, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing. It was his fight to keep his muscles lax and his breathing deep and even as his father eased open his door to peer inside. His stomach was twisting in knots, knowing that if his father did not believe that he was asleep then he would be dragged out of bed.

After an agonizing minute of watching, Desmond's door slid shut again, leaving the boy to relax fully into his bed. His eyes felt heavy with sleep and, despite the knowledge that Luna and the Apple had shoved into his head, he found himself drifting. Sleep had never come easy for him. First because of his father's horror stories of Templars coming in the night to kill them all, then because of his parents fighting, and now because he was alone with a man who despised him, sleep often eluded Desmond. That it would find him now, while all the terrifying knowledge that he'd just learned was swimming around in his head, was terribly ironic. Still after all that he had been through that day, it was a relief to rest, knowing that dreams could not touch him. The problems he'd been presented with could wait until tomorrow.


	2. Chapter One

Clay had finally fallen prey to the Bleeding Effect. Lucy Stillman knew this as soon as she stepped into the main testing room and saw Vidic speaking with the directors. Clay's file was lying on the animus with a small red X drawn in the corner to show that he was no longer among the living. She brushed her fingers briefly over the manila folder before crossing to stand next to her Templar boss. Going undercover in Abstergo Industries, the front for the Templar Order, wouldn't have been her first choice but she had agreed to do it a long time ago. Backing out, now that she knew exactly what she was getting, into was not an option. The Templar's would kill her and those counting on her.

"Can I be of service, Mr. Vidic?" she questioned, drawing his attention towards her. He had, no doubt, been aware of her presence before she had spoken but Lucy was not supposed to know anything about Assassins or Templars so it would be suspicious if she did not indulge the need to make her presence known.

"Ms. Stillman," Vidic replied, turning to her with his usual slimy smile. "We are in need of another test subject now that Mr. Kaczmarek is unavailable for us to use." He offered the slim manila folder he was holding to her, saying, "Would you please take this information to Mr. Cross so that he may retrieve our next subject."

"Of course," Lucy replied calmly, taking the folder and clicking out of the room.

She headed for the training room, knowing that it was the location most likely to house Daniel Cross. Lucy had met Cross only once before she had gained a job at Abstergo but it was a memory so filled with fear that she preferred not to look back at it. She had not seen him again since until she'd become a part of "the Abstergo team", a phrase used when she'd been hired that now left her torn between laughing and crying because she didn't want to be a good team member but she had to be. Cross was undeniably intimidating, especially considering the fact that he'd killed the assassin Mentor before William Miles, but he failed to frighten her. She knew exactly what power he held, the power to ruin her, but she knew better than to think that he actually would.

Lucy stepped inside the training room and settled against the far wall when she observed Cross beating a punching bag. She and the others at Abstergo that had to interact with Cross knew better than to interrupt him while he was working out. It was one of the ways he dealt with the Bleeding Effect and, at best, if you interrupted him you found yourself face to face with an angry Templar. At worst you got someone else, someone confused and frightened and determined to kill everyone around. It was best to wait until he was finished.

While she waited, Lucy flipped open the manila folded to take a look at who the unfortunate Subject Seventeen would be. The face smiling innocently up at her was older than it had been the last time she'd seen it but unmistakable. She shut the file on Desmond Miles's face, her heart suddenly pounding. It had been years since she'd seen the Mentor's son or even spoken to him but their first meeting hadn't been the kind a person forgot. Leaning more heavily against the wall, folder clutched tightly in one hand, Lucy closed her eyes and let memory overtake her.

_Lucy wrapped her arms around her stomach and tried to smile at the gathered group. It had taken her three days of cautious traveling via public transportation to reach the Farm after the Templar attack which had resulted in the deaths of her parents and little sister. Three days of dealing with the crippling sadness alone, just to reach this place. Standing across from her was the Mentor, his son standing in his shadow with his head down. Desmond Miles was much quieter than any other boy Lucy had met, and she had grown up with four male cousins that were close to her age before they'd been killed. Her eyes kept sliding towards them, hoping to catch him glance at her, but his head stayed firmly down. "We are all sorry for your loss Miss Stillman," the Mentor was saying as Lucy struggled to focus on him. "You can rest here and mourn in safety."_

_"Thank you, sir," Lucy managed to get out, turning a thin smile to the Mentor._

_The Mentor nodded and turned to his son saying, "Desmond, show Miss Stillman to her new quarters."_

_"Yes sir," came the soft reply and Desmond stepped forward, offering Lucy his arm without looking up at her. She took it uncertainly and allowed him to lead her away under the watchful eye of William Miles._

_"It's nice to meet you," Lucy offered tentatively and he glanced at her quickly before looking away and picking up the pace. Lucy frowned at him in confusion. Had she said something wrong? She didn't mind offending people, she'd had a touchy little sister after all, but she didn't like doing it accidentally. Especially to someone behaving as shyly as Desmond was._

_She remained silent as Desmond led her towards what appeared to be a three story cement dormitory. The windows on it were small and uniform distances apart when they were set into the cinderblock building. It looked almost prison like, a shock considering how inviting the home she'd grown up in had been. He opened the front door and beckoned her inside but she stepped back, shaking her head. That earned her an almost panicked look and Lucy felt her heart jumping in fear in response to it. "Please," she pleaded, licking her cracked lips. "I can't go in, not yet."_

_"I c-can't-" Desmond stuttered, the panic too strong to mistake for anything else now. "I'm supposed t-to show you your room."_

_"Can you show me around first?" Lucy pleaded, unwilling to enter what she already felt was to be her jail cell. She felt jailed ever since her life had crumbled to pieces around her. She just couldn't handle that right now._

_"I d-don't-" Desmond stuttered but Lucy was desperate enough to override him with, "I'll tell your dad it was my idea." That statement froze him. Lucy kept her eyes locked on his as he considered his preposition before, at last, nodding hesitantly._

_"O-okay," he stuttered. "But we have to put your things in your room first." Lucy nodded and breathed out a hushed sigh of relief before following him into the building._

_"What are these?" she asked as the made their way up painfully steep stairs, no elevator in sight (of course not because "elevators are death traps Lucy" her mother lectures in the back of her mind)._

_"The novice dormitories," Desmond replied, his voice echoing hollowly off the dull grey walls. "This is where the novices who weren't born on the Farm, and aren't still living with their parents, stay while they train here. This is the female wing, though the male one doesn't look any different." He led Lucy to the third floor and opened the third door down the hall for her, revealing a small room with a single bed and a chest of drawers. "Bathrooms are at the end of every hall," he told her as she placed her few belongings down on the floor._

_"Okay," Lucy said with hollow cheer, turning to smile at him only to find that he was staring fixedly at the ground again. "I'm ready for the grand tour now." She thought she saw a hint of a smile before Desmond gently brushed by her, leading her back outside. He was a decent tour guide, taking her throughout the Farm and pointing out buildings she would need to remember but there was something about him that was bothering her. Maybe it was that he stayed very carefully just outside arm's reach or maybe it was the way he'd stuttered so much when she'd suggested he disobey his father's command. Regardless, it had her saying, "Is there somewhere private we can go and talk?"_

_Desmond nodded and changed directions, leading them towards the woods near the furthest edge of the compound. Hiking behind him, Lucy could see tension slide off his shoulders the further they got from the main body of the compound. They didn't hike far into the woods before Desmond stopped, settling cautiously on the body of a downed tree. Lucy smiled and settled next to him, careful to keep the arm's reach distance he'd established. To her surprise, Desmond smiled back, the expression shy and sweet. They sat in silence for a few moments before Desmond said, "I, uh, I have something I need to tell you."_

_"What?" Lucy asked curiously, leaning forward, and he glanced warily at her once before spilling out an extraordinary story. It trampled back and forth over itself, leaving her lost at times, and when he got to the end he looked at the ground as if expecting her to dismiss what he'd just told her. Instead of dismissing it, Lucy considered what she'd been told before asking, "Can you show me the Apple?" Ever so slowly Desmond nodded, his face cautiously lighting up with hope._

"Can I help you, Ms. Stillman?" Only one person said her name with enough mocking contempt to snap her out of whatever she was thinking of. Lucy blinked once to clear her head and then straightened up, looking a sweaty but definitively there Daniel Cross in the eye.

"Subject Sixteen is now indisposed," she informed him, handing over the folder. "Mr. Vidic requested that I find you and bring you the current information about our next subject."

She waited patiently while Cross flipped open the folder and skimmed over Desmond's basic information. She had delivered the information, as promised, but Cross sometimes had questions and Lucy was one of the few willing to stick around and attempt to answer them. "How soon does Vidic want Mr. Miles in custody?" Cross asked at last, being sure to meet her eyes.

"He has yet to set a timeline," Lucy replied, barely resisting the urge to stamp her foot in frustration. What good was it to be planted within the heart of a top secret Templar organization if no one bothered to tell you anything important? It completely defeated the purpose of spying on the enemy. "He'll likely send you out within the next couple of days," she speculated and Cross nodded seriously, snapping the folder shut.

"Tell Vidic I'll be out tonight," Cross drawled, his Russian accent slurring his words as his eyes gleamed in something almost like anger. "I'll work on tracking down his precious subject tomorrow."

Lucy's lips twitched with the effort it took to hold in her smile as she replied, "Of course." She waited until Cross stepped back before sweeping out of the room. Instead of heading back towards the main testing room, she set her course for Warren Vidic's personal office. Ordinarily Vidic would have been supervising Clay while he was strapped into the animus but with him dead, Vidic would be catching up on the paperwork he'd been neglecting in order to make sure Lucy was pushing Clay far enough. She hesitated, rapping on the door frame, and Vidic looked up from his computer.

"Can I help you, Ms. Stillman?" His tone implied that he would very much like her to go away.

"Mr. Cross said to inform you that he's going out tonight but he'd work on tracking down Subject Seventeen tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Vidic demanded incredulously. "Doesn't he understand that our current mission is of the utmost importance?"

"I'm certain I don't know, sir," Lucy replied with bland disinterest. Vidic scowled at her but seemed to realize there was nothing she could do about the current situation.

"Very well," he huffed. "Sort through any unsorted data from Subject Sixteen's final sessions and then you may be finished for the day." Lucy inclined her head in acknowledgement, leaving Vidic to his work.

Most of the memories Clay had worked through had already been correctly filed in Abstergo's database. Lucy was meticulous about correctly categorizing and filing the members in Abstergo's mainframe while Clay was traveling through each one. She didn't often get behind which meant that she had maybe an hour's work. Afterwords she would be left alone with her thoughts and worries as she wandered Abstergo's halls. Lucy was just as much a prisoner as Clay had been. Vidic had prevented Lucy's murder when Abstergo was ready to launch the testing of the actual animus but he had left her trapped within the company's walls. This was useful only because she was supposed to be spying on the Templars, but it left her feeling incredibly confined. She could only hope that her assignment wouldn't last much longer.


	3. Chapter Two

Being kidnapped, Desmond thought, was not on anyone's list of things they wanted to have happen to them. It probably sank even further down the list when they found out they were being kidnapped as part of some strange science experiment. He struggled to calm his breathing and heartbeat after being launched out of a time that wasn't his own. He'd been running through some sort of marketplace, the sun warm on his shoulders and neck despite the cover of the hood he'd been wearing. It had been so utterly wrong, but somehow it had felt completely natural at the same time. The world around him had blurred and panic had set in. He'd been thrown free of the experience, leaving him panting on some sort of table while Lucy and an old man argued over him.

"Just take deep breaths, Mr. Miles," Lucy soothed, placing a gentle hand against his shoulder. "It will pass." Absently Desmond wondered whether she was talking about the confusion of being dumped into a situation he'd never experienced or the panic currently trying to choke him. Her hand lifted and the clear screen above him shifted away, giving him room to sit upright. He could feel bruises throbbing from his capture, which he had refused to make easy. His struggles had done little more than earning him bruises before he'd been knocked out and dragged here. Quite honestly, after the events of the past two days, it had almost been a relief when his captor had drugged him.

_Desmond bit down an exhausted groan as yet another person impatiently smacked their money on the bar, demanding another complicated concoction. The downside to being the newest bartender at a busy all hours New York bar such as the Bad Weather meant that he ended up working horrible hours, such as the late night shift on Friday. University students normally stumbled in around midnight on Fridays and stuck around until sunrise, keeping Desmond on his toes. It was a long, tiring shift and his exhaustion was not helped by the fact that he rarely slept well. Despite being free from his father and the rest of the assassins for nine years now, he rarely slept well._

_He was always worried that the assassins would find him and drag him back to the Farm for punishment. The concept haunted his dreams and had not been helped by the nagging feeling that he was being watched that had haunted him all day. He'd tossed and turned restlessly before rousing and dressing for work. Desmond slung another drink across the counter, feeling relief as the next person stepping into the bar was his replacement, Chelsea. "Evening, sugar," the tall blonde purred, sauntering around the counter to wink at a stunned and very inebriated college boy._

_"Evening," Desmond slurred tiredly, managing a thin smile for her. Chelsea used her fabulous looks to earn plenty of tips but she tended to mother everyone younger than her working at the bar. Desmond definitively fell into that category._

_"Go clock out," she told him, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. "Get some rest."_

_"I've got fifteen minutes left in my shift," Desmond protested through a yawn._

_"And you look like you're going to fall over at any minute," Chelsea retorted. "Go get some rest, sugar. You look like you need it."_

_"Thanks." He pulled Chelsea into a quick hug before clocking out and heading for the door._

_"No problem, sugar," Chelsea called after him as he stepped outside. The fresh air wasn't much better than the air in the bar, except that is smelled like car fumes instead of alcohol. Still Desmond sucked in a deep breath and shivered at the crisp bite of the fall air. The chill helped rouse him some from his exhausted state and he headed down the street, keeping a good distance from the people that were still out at four in the morning._

_Exhaustion made it difficult to keep an eye on the people around him so Desmond almost jumped out of his skin when someone bumped roughly into him. His heartbeat accelerated frantically as he absorbed the brief view of a larger presence looming over him. The shadowed figure shoved past him, a calloused hand briefly brushing his own. Desmond sucked in a deep, steadying breath, working to calm the instinctive panic reaction to having someone larger and stronger than him invade his personal space bubble. He'd once hoped that the reaction would fade after being away from his father for a few years but it never had. While women like Chelsea were safe, any man near him that was taller, brawnier, or a combination of the two, triggered an automatic increase in heart rate and a dizzying feeling of panic._

_Desmond lifted a trembling hand to tug his jacket tighter around himself and suddenly became aware of a scrap piece of paper trapped in his palm. Cautiously he unfolded it, and stared at the black pen scrawled across it. Inscribed in what was essentially chicken scratch was a sloppily drawn Templar cross followed by 9-1-12. He frowned and then crumpled up the scrap, allowing it to join the other debris on the grimy sidewalk as he continued his trek home. The hike to his third floor apartment, because the elevator was perpetually broken and elevators didn't have enough room to fight in should the need arise anyway, had him swaying and struggling to stay upright as he fumbled with his keys, searching for the correct one._

_Once inside, Desmond made sure the lock was shut and checked the windows before collapsing on his lumpy mattress, still fully clothed. Despite his exhaustion, he knew it would take a while to drift off. Though this hadn't been unusual when he was still living at the Farm with the threat of his father's mercurial moods hanging over him, it hadn't improved when he'd run away. The paranoia had simply gone from being fixed on the threat of his father to the threat of an unexpected attack. Tonight his insomnia wasn't helped by the knowledge that he worked the early evening shift tomorrow. It would be yet another exhausting evening of slinging drinks for college students before stumbling back to his apartment in an attempt to sleep through his day off. Slowly his heavy eyes drifted shut, only to snap open an hour later when complete, uncontrollable panic washed over him that would take a few hours to calm._

He had made it to work the next day but he hadn't made it next to his apartment. Instead he'd been ambushed and, after a brief struggle, knocked out. Presumably while he was out he'd been dragged here and dumped on top of this table which, now that he'd slid off of it, looked less like a table and more like some kind of machine. "You okay?" Lucy asked and Desmond became aware of the fact that his breathing had finally settled into a more relaxed pattern.

He nodded tentatively, glad that he at least recognized what century he was in, and a smug male voice said, "I told you he'd be fine."

"Bastards!" Desmond snarled, not having to feign genuine anger at his situation. He recognized the man's voice from hearing it argue with Lucy while he panicked.

"Now, now," the smug male chided, circling around so Desmond could get a good look at him. "I just saved your life." He was likely in his very late forties or early fifties with receding hairline and neatly trimmed beard, both salt and pepper instead of whatever natural color his hair had once been.

"Saved my life?" Desmond repeated incredulously, staring at the smug looking face. "You kidnapped me and strapped me into that...that thing!" He gestured back towards the table he'd just scrambled off of, legs still trembling from the shock of what he'd just experienced.

"Animus," the man said in a tone teachers normally reserved for particularly stupid children. "It's an animus." Desmond shot a displeased scowl at the animus before turning back to the man.

"I don't even know you people," he tried, changing the direction of his protestations. "Why are you doing this to me?" His tone was petulant, childish, and he barely resisted the urge to cringe in shame at it.

"You have information we need, Mr. Miles," was the knowing response, pushing any other complaint from Desmond's mind. He knew what this was. He'd seen it once more, in his mind.

"Information?" his mouth demanded without his brain's conscious consent. "I'm a bartender for Christ's sake! What do you want me to do? Teach you how to mix martini?"

"We know who you are," was the man's chilling response. "What you are." Desmond's hands clenched into tight fists, knuckles turning white as memories of his childhood that he'd suppressed threatening to come to the surface.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Desmond replied flatly, already knowing that the man wouldn't be fooled. He was too smug, too assured in his correctness, to believe anything Desmond said to the contrary.

"Don't play coy with me," the man snapped, getting close enough that Desmond felt himself tense at the invasion of his personal space. "There isn't time. You're an Assassin; and whether you realize it or not, you've got something that my employers want, locked away in that head of yours."

"But I'm not an Assassin," Desmond pleaded, taking a nervous step back. "Not anymore." Panic was crawling up his throat when the man advanced as he retreated, remaining just inside he space bubble.

"Yes, your file indicated at much," was the laconic reply as the man began circling around Desmond, who had backed into the animus. "Something about an escape. Most fortunate for us."

"What do you want from me?" Desmond felt defeated, stomach sinking towards his shoes as his gaze dropped to the floor.

"For you to do as you're told." The reply came from eerily close to his shoulder and he flinched away from the man, shoulders bunching with fear. "The animus will allow us to locate what we need. Once we have it, you'll be free to go."

Desmond didn't have to be a Master Assassin to know that the man was lying. Once this man found what he was looking for, he would order Desmond eliminated to avoid having the information land in Assassin hands. That didn't particularly matter at the moment. Desmond would be getting out of there alive but for now he needed to play along. Still it wouldn't be good to seem too compliant or his captor might grow suspicious. "I am not going back in there!"

"Then we'll induce a coma and continue our work. When we're done you'll be left to die. Truth be told, the only reason you're still conscious is because this approach saves us time." Desmond felt his stomach churn at that response, wondering how many others had faced this choice. How many others had suffered to give the Templars what they wanted? "So what is it, Mr. Miles? Live or die?" When Desmond didn't answer the man scowled at him and barked, "Lie down!" Desmond did as he was told almost instinctively, years of obeying his father when that exact tone was used in order to avoid punishment impossible to ignore. "A wise decision," the old man said, smug tone back.

Desmond tilted his head to glance towards Lucy as the clear screen came up to cover his face. She smiled reassuringly at him before turning her attention towards the screen and keypad in front of her, fingers flying across the keys. "So what is the animus exactly?" he asked warily, knowing he needed to gather what information he could before whatever had happened to him earlier happened again.

"It's a projector that renders genetic memories in three dimensions," the old man lectured, tone sounding pleased to be talking about the machine he was planning to use on Desmond.

"Genetic memories?" Desmond asked uncertainly.

"Seems you'll need a bit of a tutorial," came the mocking response. "Very well, we'll start simple. What is a memory, Mr. Miles?"

Desmond shot a displeased scowl at the old man, saying "It's the...recollection of a past event."

"Specific to the individual remembering the event," the man expounded.

"Yeah, sure," Desmond said sullenly. He thought he noticed Lucy's lips quirking up in a slim smile before he had to turn his attention back to the old man in order to continue following the explanation.

"What if I told you that the human body not only housed an individual's memory, but the memories of his ancestors as well? Genetic memory, if you will. Migration, hibernation, reproduction; how do animals know when and where to go? What to do?"

"That's just animal instinct."

"Now you're arguing semantics, Mr. Miles. Whatever you call it, the fact remains. These creatures hold knowledge, absent the requisite first-hand experience. I've spent the past thirty years trying to understand why. I've discovered something most fascinating. Our DNA functions as an archive. It contains not only genetic instructions passed down from previous generations, but memories as well. The memories of our ancestors."

"And the animus lets you decode and read these DNA files," Desmond realized.

"Precisely," came the smug response.

"But there's a problem," Lucy cut in, tone professional. "This is the specific memory we're trying to access." She highlighted a section of DNA on the screen above Desmond's head. "Unfortunately, when we try and open the memory, your mind withdraws. You lack the confidence to step into your ancestor's body. That's what happened earlier. You got knocked out of the target memory and pushed back to a more stable state."

"Why?" Desmond asked curiously.

"It's your subconscious. It's resisting. We found similar reactions among patients who undergo hypnosis to relive traumatic events. They can't jump directly into the specific memory. They need to be eased in. Even then, there can be problems," Lucy told him.

"So how do we fix it?"

"We find a memory you can synchronize with and move forward from there. You'll get used to it. This is the closest we can get, so, it's where we'll have to start." Lucy then turned her attention towards the old man and added, "I'm uploading the first memory now, Dr. Vidic."

"Very good, Ms. Stillman," was the old man's reply.

Lucy then turned her attention to Desmond and asked, "Once the memory loads, relax and allow yourself to be pulled it. It should be easier than it was previously." Desmond nodded, giving Lucy a reassuring smile before the world turned white and faded away into another time and place.


	4. Chapter Three

Daniel Cross settled on the roof of Abstergo's main building, breathing in the crisp night air. Smog dimmed or hid many of the stars in the sky but they could not be completely obscured. Daniel often came out here to relax in the evenings, grounding himself in the sounds of city traffic and the temperature, which was often enough milder than anything his ancestor had experienced. It was just another way to ground himself against the Bleeding Effect he'd experienced after a time in the animus as Subject Four. He'd discovered how to lessen, and sometimes circumvent entirely, the worst of the Bleeding Effect episodes through trial and error and, for the most part the Templars didn't protest these quirks, likely because they believed that by allowing him some control over a small aspect of his life, they were ensuring his loyalty to their cause. They were wrong, but Daniel allowed them their delusion because it benefited him.

Below him, tucked away in one of Abstergo's secret testing rooms, an exhausted looking Lucy Stillman was attempting to convince Vidic to let Subject Seventeen out of the animus. Despite the struggle he had put up when Daniel and a couple lower level Templars had come for him, Desmond Miles had appeared just as vulnerable as anyone else when his mind was locked up inside the animus. Daniel had stopped by just before he'd stepped outside, eyes skimming across Miles's still form. To Abstergo's knowledge, kidnapping the young man was the first time Daniel Cross and Desmond Miles had met one another, but that was a lie. This was not the first encounter the pair had experienced, nor was it the first time that Daniel had defeated the younger in hand-to-hand combat. It was the first time he had done so when Miles was not truly trying his best but Daniel had not done his best work either. He had been effective, but he had already known the outcome of the battle before it had begun. So had Desmond.

A long time ago, when he'd been planted within the Assassin ranks, Daniel had believed completely in the Templar ways. That belief had given him the strength to kill the Mentor and several other members of the Assassin elite before returning to Abstergo. What had happened after that had caused him to doubt. The real shattering of his faith had come during the period when he was placed into the animus. Vidic, who had been one of the people responsible for Daniel's welfare yet he proved, time and time again, that he cared nothing for Daniel in the way he dealt with the Bleeding Effect. When she had finally arrived at Abstergo five years ago, Lucy had shown more concern for Daniel's mental health than any of the Templars associated with him, but that was her way. After the deaths of her family, she had become extremely protective as those she cared for and Daniel had somehow found himself included within that number.

Should Daniel have encountered the young Desmond before he had experienced the Bleeding Effect and the lack of regard the Templars actually held for him, he would have likely killed the boy. As it was, he almost had. The thirteen year old hadn't been the best fighter at the Farm by any means and it was only through the power of the Apple of Eden that had once been in Masyaf, that the boy had survived their initial struggle. After he'd fled the Farm at sixteen, Desmond had excelled under Daniel's occasional tutelage, proving that the boy could have been an incredible effective Assassin should he have had more patient training.

Daniel breathed out, his breath rising in a white cloud towards the sky, wondering if Lucy had been at all successful in convincing Vidic to let the boy rest. It irked him that at this point of time he needed to entrust Desmond's safety to the blonde. It wasn't that he didn't believe Lucy capable of defending both herself and a Desmond that was pretending to be much less capable than he actually was. Lucy was a very capable fighter, perhaps more so than Desmond in some aspects, but the younger man was the closest thing Daniel had to real family, which left him extremely reluctant to entrust Desmond's safety to anyone else. Even if that someone else happened to be Lucy Stillman.

He hadn't been particularly happy when Lucy had delivered the news that Desmond was the next animus subject. They'd all known that sooner or later Abstergo would go after Desmond, but the younger man had been the only one in their small alliance that had been content with that knowledge. Daniel knew all too well what the Templars were capable of and Lucy had been afraid that she would be unable to get Desmond out of Abstergo once he'd been taken. That Daniel would likely be the one sent to kidnap Desmond had been a minor, unimportant detail then. In many was it still was. The two had sparred enough that they knew each other's strengths and weaknesses. Better yet, Daniel knew how to take down Desmond without inflicting any serious damage, something that your average Templar would not. The only tricky part about that entire affair was that Desmond needed to know when Abstergo was coming for him. If the younger man didn't, he would have shown the Templars exactly how capable he was. For the purposes of their plan, that would be disastrous. Desmond needed to be thought of as an incapable fighter so he and Lucy could speak at times without an armed guard lurking nearby.

The message passed on to Desmond two nights previously had been the prearranged form of communication. Anyone monitoring Desmond in the twenty-four hours before Daniel had brought him in would have noticed nothing but a larger man bumping into the target but nothing more. In the shadows of the street, it would be near impossible for anyone at Abstergo to tell that it was Daniel and completely impossible for them to know that he was passing on a message to the young Assassin. Job finished for the night, Daniel had returned to Abstergo to prepare for his task the next evening.

The door to the roof squeaked open and Daniel turned to see Lucy standing there, illuminated by pale yellow light coming from the grimy light bulb behind her. Dark circles surrounded her warm blue eyes as she offered him a tired, apologetic smile. "Vidic wants to talk to you, if you have a minute," she told him, soft voice barely carrying over the sound of a car horn and yelling from an irritated cab driver on the street below. Daniel nodded and Lucy vanished behind the quickly closing door, leaving him to stand and stretch.

Muscles in his side twinged, make his lips quirk up in a shallow grin. Desmond had gotten a couple decent, but rather amaturish looking, shots in during the initial struggle to capture and one of them had left a bruise spreading across the older man's side. To any Templar watching the recording of the capture, it would look like Daniel had been toying with the kid, but if Lucy happened to take a look at the tape she would likely laugh herself sick. The entire affair had been carried out in an almost exaggerated, playacting style that characterized neither Daniel nor Desmond's typical behavior around one another.

_Daniel settled against the alley wall that formed a short cut between the bar Desmond currently worked at and the cheap apartment he lived in. The two lower ranking Templar agents that had been sent with him had hung back, blocking off the far end of the alley on the off chance that the run away Assassin actually managed to slip by Cross. Daniel resisted the urge to smirk, knowing that Desmond was actually capable of squirming past him on his best days thanks to a strong working knowledge of Daniel's skill set. Abstergo didn't know that, of course. They thought Desmond was little more than a runaway brat who hadn't cared for the Assassin lifestyle and had barely made it through his basic training. They knew nothing of Daniel and Desmond's little impromptu training sessions on Saturday mornings or Sunday evenings where they either sparred or raced across buildings to keep the young Assassin's skills relatively sharp._

_Desmond could make this whole affair an incredible close fight should he choose to do so, which had been Daniel's intention when he'd started training the kid, but today the match up wouldn't even be close. Daniel's little message to the kid the night before would make sure of that. Daniel straightened up at approach footsteps, letting a vicious grin creep on to his face. After all, he had a show to put on if they were going to convince Abstergo that Desmond was no fully trained Assassin._

_The young man in question stepped into the alley and Daniel could see his eyes straining against the dark. Daniel waited until the younger man had started his way down the alley before stepping forward and wrapping a hand around the kid's shoulder. Desmond twisted automatically, fist coming up in a punch. Daniel caught the fist in his hand, already able to tell from the force behind it that the younger man was aware of exactly what was going on. Daniel smoothly twisted Desmond's arm behind his back, trying to get the rid pinned so they could get over with this quickly, and was rewarded with a sharp kick this his shin. "Taking cheap shots already, Mr. Miles?" Daniel drawled and Desmond squirmed like he hadn't a clue how to break the hold on his arm._

_"Who are you?" came the anxious sounding demand, as if Desmond hadn't even met Cross before. "What do you want with me?"_

_"I know someone who wants a word with you," Daniel returned, gesturing with his head for the two Templar agents to come over. Desmond responded to this by kicking one of them in the groin. Daniel wrenched the kid's arm further back, far enough that it'd likely ache later in response, forcing Desmond to rise on his toes to relieve some of the pressure. He knew he was leaving bruises on Desmond's arm but this wouldn't be the first time the kid had come away from sparring with him with bruises._

_The second Templar agent hovered helplessly next to the first, who was doubled over shielding his groin from any further hits. Daniel jerked his head meaningfully at the useless agent who warily made his way forward, staring clear of any possible kicks. Desmond let out an angry smile, lips curling back over his teeth, but otherwise couldn't do anything to stop the agent from halting hesitantly just a foot away from the kid to stare uncertainly at Daniel. "Dose him," Daniel barked but the Templar stared at him uncomprehendingly while the other one groaned behind him. "Do I have to do everything myself?" Daniel snarled. "Give him the sedative!"_

_Daniel rolled his eyes towards the sky when realization dawned on the Templar. A moment later the sedative was being injected into Desmond's veins, the kid putting up a weak struggle the whole time. Daniel didn't let up his grip until Desmond's muscles when completely slack, just in case the sedative made the kid forget the plan and fight back for real. Then he hefted Desmond's lighter, smaller form over his shoulder. "Grab Thing Two and get moving," he ordered the second Templar irritably, turning towards the other end of the alley where they'd left the van. It would be in their best interest to get Desmond to Abstergo before the sedative wore off, otherwise all bets were off. If Desmond woke but Daniel hadn't managed to deliver him to the Templars, then they would move directly to Plan B. The two Templar agents would be killed, their bodies dumped, and they would seek out the Assassins with their animus. Lucy would be able to join them eventually and, although Plan B needed some ironing out, it would work. For now though, provided that the two useless Templar agents Vidic had insisted on sending with him, they were sticking with Plan A._

Daniel hesitated in front of Vidic's office for a moment, silently considering whether or not he actually wanted to deal with the man before rapping once on the door frame. "Come in," Vidic called and Daniel pushed the door inside, stepping into the room.

"Ms. Stillman said you wanted to talk to me."

"Ah, Daniel." Vidic glanced up from his work and beckoned the man closer. "Since I haven't received a written report of your last mission and am not likely to, I thought it best to receive it from you in person."

"I found the kid and dragged him back," Daniel drawled, folding his arms over his chest. "What is there to tell?"

"Details, Mr. Cross," Vidic chided, folding his hands under his chin. "I know that you located Mr. Miles and apprehended him. I require the specifics to report back to Templar leadership."

"I 'apprehended him' in an alley between his apartment building and the bar he works out," Daniel returned, going as far as to make air quotes around the phrase, apprehended him. "He didn't put up too much of a fight."

"He did injure Mr. Hall," Vidic interjected and Daniel rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

"That kick was clearly telegraphed and Mr. Useless got in the way. That's all there is to it. If you want to avoid further injury to your precious agents, don't send the stupid ones out with me to capture targets."

Vidic scowled, clearly displeased with Daniel's assessment but unwilling to pursue the argument. "Very well, Mr. Cross," he said crisply. "That is all."

"Good," Daniel growled, turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. He headed for the training room, knowing from experience that he wouldn't be getting any rest any time soon that night. Talks with Vidic always left him restless and angry. If he returned to his room now, he would simply pace like a caged tiger until morning. If he exerted himself, perhaps he could get some sleep later to prepare him for the next day.


	5. Chapter Four

Lucy couldn't prevent herself from casting concerned glances at Desmond's still body in the animus from time to time. Vidic was arguing with someone over the phone so he had yet to notice her worry but she had no doubt that the Templar would sooner or later. This part of the plan was perhaps the most risky one, because it counted on the Templars not digging into Desmond's mind past searching through his ancestral memories. The Apple had told Desmond that Abstergo and the Templars would only be interested in Altair and the map the Apple had shown the Master Assassin. If it were not for the fact that Desmond were Altair's descendant, her friend insisted the Abstergo would not be interested in him. Still, she was worried. She, Desmond, and Daniel had already changed so much of the future that it was conceivable that Desmond was wrong.

"How are things, Ms. Stillman?" Vidic's voice broke Lucy from her worry and she refocused on the screen, watching as Altair assassinated the fifth of the targets assigned to him by Al Mualim to regain his rank.

"He's progressing nicely," she said before bringing up the animus readings. She frowned at them, sensing Vidic's keen gaze on her. "The animus is getting warm though."

Vidic leaned over his shoulder and then stepped away, saying "It will hold for a few hours." Lucy frowned at his retreating back before shrinking the window with the animus statistics into a small square in the corner while Altair spoke with Al Mualim again. It was fascinating to watch the great Assassin's journey to redemption shortly before he was forced to kill his mentor. If it hadn't been for the Bleeding Effect caused by extended periods of time spent in the animus, Lucy would be giddy with the knowledge that her brain child worked.

That she'd been the one to help break through the final problems with the animus was not a particular source of pride for the blonde. Yes cognitive neuroscience had been her focus since she graduated high school, though taking extensive college classes when one was an Assassin provided its own set of challenges, but she hadn't wanted to use her knowledge to hurt anyone. The animus was harmful to its users and anyone who thought otherwise was a fool. No, Lucy was not proud of her accomplishment, but she had done what she needed to do in order to bring Desmond's plan to fruition. They were saving the world, and that knowledge was enough to sustain her when she truly considered what she was doing with her precious field of study.

The animus temperature went up another two degrees and the blonde's semi-permanent frown deepened. Every once in a while Abstergo's machine overheated and the one time Vidic hadn't allowed her to pull the subject from the memory, the young woman inside its matrix had gone into a coma before dying two days later. While she was confident that Desmond was important enough to the Templar cause to be pulled out before that nightmare occurred, she needed to keep a close eye on the animus readouts in order to start the manual de-synching process.

Desmond as Altair stared gathering information for the next assassination and the temperature of the animus rose another two degrees. Lucy turned her head towards Vidic, planning on assessing the situation to figure out how soon she should begin the argument about letting Desmond out of the animus only to find the Templar glaring at someone past her shoulder. "What are you doing here, Mr. Cross?" the old man snapped.

Lucy's head snapped around and she took in the sight of Daniel leaning against the doorway with a wide smirk on his face. "Checking on our newest subject," he drawled. "According to the file you gave me, Mr. Miles is quite the escape artist. I wanted to make sure he hadn't slipped your grasp and made all my hard work count for nothing."

"Well, as you can see, Subject Seventeen is still here," Vidic growled. "So you can leave us to work in peace."

Lucy caught sight of Daniel's shrug out of the corner of her eye as she glanced worriedly down at the animus data. "Actually, we might need Mr. Cross to stay," she countered. "The animus is in danger of overheating so I'll have to pull Subject Seventeen out in order to fix it and keep his brain in tact."

"And why would we require Mr. Cross for that?"

"As he pointed out, Subject Seventeen has a habit of escaping from places that it should be impossible to escape from, so someone needs to keep an eye on him," Lucy pointed out, not unreasonably. "Since Mr. Cross brought him in practically on his own, he should be able to keep an eye on the subject during the time required to repair the animus." It was difficult to refer to Desmond as nothing more than a test subject, like he wasn't even a real person, but Lucy knew she had to appear not to be attached to him in any way to avoid arousing Vidic's suspicion.

"We can simply lock Mr. Miles in his room," came the crisp reply. "Mr. Cross is not required for that." Lucy found herself struck mute by that statement, unable to come up with a counter argument. She had known that Daniel and Desmond had not had a chance to talk to one another for close to two weeks. While Lucy had gone longer than that without contact with Desmond but Daniel had not. Since the pair had practically become brothers, the separation had to be wearing on them.

It was Daniel, surprisingly, who came up with a counter. "You don't want him bleeding Altair, do you?" he drawled at Vidic, making the man look up with a scowl.

"I hardly see how that's relevant."

"Answer the question," Daniel challenged, not moving from his position leaning against the doorway.

When Vidic remained silent, focused on whatever had come up on his smart phone, Lucy said, "It would be preferable to avoid that outcome. Altair was deadly to the Templars in his time and should Desmond come to believe his is his ancestor it could prove deadly for us."

"Then it would be best to get him out a moving around in our present world," Daniel said, folding his arms over his chest. "It'll help keep him grounded until you can find whatever you're looking for in his head."

"Very well," Vidic huffed, obviously frustrated. "You can take Mr. Miles on a little field trip while Ms. Stillman fixes the animus." Lucy nodded crisply and began the process of manually removing Desmond from the memory he was currently in. The animus temperature was rising steadily now but she was confidant she could get Desmond out in time. She pressed the final key and watched anxiously as Desmond's eyelids fluttered before slowly opening.

"What's going on?" he asked, obviously confused as he stared up at her. Lucy wanted to smile and brush a hand through his hair, reassuring him that everything was okay, but she couldn't. Not here.

"The animus is overheating," she informed him in as professional tone as she could manage. "You're done until I can get it fixed."

"Oh," Desmond replied, sitting up slowly. "So I'm being locked up until you have a use for me again?"

"No," Lucy corrected. "You are free to wander as you please, but Mr. Cross here is going to be your escort."

Desmond shot a plausibly wary scowl at Daniel in response to that statement, saying "I remember you." Daniel smirked widely at that statement and Lucy watched Desmond's eyes narrow. "You're the one who kidnapped me."

"Daniel Cross, at your service," came the drawled response, Daniel not moving from his position leaning against the doorway.

"You're leaving me with him?" Desmond demanded incredulously, looking between Lucy and Vidic as if they'd both lost there minds.

"Ms. Stillman needs time to repair the animus and since we cannot have you succumb to the Bleeding Effect before we get the information we need, we are going to give you some measure of freedom," Vidic said, tone obviously displeased. "Mr. Cross has already proven that he is capable of keeping you under control, which is why I have entrusted the duty of keeping an eye on you to him." Desmond gaped like a landed fish at the Templar, leaving Lucy to wonder whether or not he was taking this stupid act a little too far. Daniel, obviously loosing patience for the whole situation, pushed himself off the wall, crossing the room in a few quick strides to pull Desmond away from the animus.

Desmond tried to dig his feet in and resist but Daniel was stronger, dragging him towards the doorway. Lucy knew, from the few times she had watched them spar, that Desmond was perfectly capable of breaking free but, for the purpose of maintaining his cover, he allowed Daniel to drag him from the room. Lucy bit down a grin at the comical picture they made before shutting down the animus. It was glowing red from the heat that had built up and she knew she'd need to take at least an hour before it cooled off enough for her to work on the machinery inside. It was going to be a long afternoon for her, with Vidic leaning over her shoulder while she worked on the animus, but at least a couple of them would be enjoying themselves.

Outside the testing room, Daniel was still dragging Desmond. The young Assassin in question had expected the older man to ease off once they were out of Vidic's sight but Daniel seemed determined to keep up the show. Desmond would have loved to put up a struggle but he was supposed to be pretending he could barely defend himself so struggling would earn him nothing but bruises. The hallways of Abstergo Industries, or this part of Abstergo at least, were surprisingly empty but Desmond could see the cameras positioned to take in every angle of the whitewashed walls. That was likely the reason Cross was still dragging him, although there was a small chance the older man was doing it to annoy him, so Desmond decided to play along for the moment.

It wasn't until he was pulled towards a set of stairs that Desmond decided it was time to protest. "Where are you taking me?" he demanded, setting his feet on the slick floor and managing to pull back a step before Cross yanked him forward hard enough to have him stumbling up the first two stairs.

"I thought I'd take you to the roof and throw you off it," came the blithe retort. The look on Daniel's face was reminiscent of the times right before the pair would spar when Desmond already knew that he was going to lose. Suddenly apprehensive, Desmond tried to pull away again but to no avail. He didn't really think that Cross would throw him off the roof, at least without making sure he was going to survive the fall, but he didn't trust that smirk.

The trip to the roof earned them a few strange looks but none of the Abstergo employees seemed to think it was a good idea to stop Daniel and question what was going on. Honestly, Desmond didn't blame them. Daniel Cross was able, and willing, to wipe the floor with anyone who tried to take him on. Desmond was sure that Abstergo employees were paid well, but he doubted they were paid well enough to fight Daniel. The door to the rooftop opened with a groan and Daniel finally released Desmond's arm, pushing the door shut behind them. "If we speak softly, the wind will drown out voices," Daniel murmured, guiding Desmond towards the edge of the roof. Later afternoon sunlight warmed his shoulders as he surveyed the city laid out below him. After being locked inside Abstergo for days on end, being outside felt like heaven.

"They're almost to the map," Desmond murmured, casting a glance over at Daniel. The older man had a neutral expression fixed on his face as he stared out towards the city skyscrapers. "After the Templars get that memory, they'll likely try to eliminate me." Daniel stiffened, scowling, and Desmond blew out a shaky breath. "You or Lucy will have to make an attempt to get me out before they manage it."

"We'll figure something out," Daniel reassured him.

"I know," Desmond breathed out, voice wavering just a little. In all honesty, he wasn't certain he would be getting out of Abstergo alive. In the future the Apple had shown him, Lucy had rescued him and took him to where two other Assassins had been waiting for them. It had been with Templar help, of course, but he'd still gotten out alive. Without as much as he'd changed by this point, he wasn't sure that would happen now. "Is the Shard in place?"

"Yes. It will be in the satellite when it's launched."

"And the Masyaf Apple?"

"The Templars believe it was destroyed in the crash of the original satellite," Cross replied. "It's hidden away but they don't even know that they should be looking for it." Desmond nodded and let out another shaky sigh, enjoying the feeling of the wind ruffling his hair.

"How much longer can we stay out here?"

"Not much longer," Daniel admitted. "The camera surveillance isn't quite as good on the roof and if we linger too long, Vidic is likely to put you under permanent guard." Desmond wrinkled his nose but allowed himself to be pulled away from the edge of the roof, comforting himself with the knowledge that his imprisonment was nearly over. So long as Lucy fixed the animus today, Desmond would reach the memory of the map tomorrow and, one way or another, his imprisonment at Abstergo would be over.


	6. Chapter Five

Desmond roused with a gasp, mind struggling to realize that he was Desmond Miles instead of Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. His body still ached with the memory of the wounds his ancestor had obtained while fighting his mentor, Al Mualim. He sucked in another deep breath, hands shaking as he pushed himself upright, relieved for once that Vidic kept this testing room so cool. The contrast between Abstergo and Masyaf was enough to ground him, allowing his muscles to relax. "Well?" an impatient voice demanded and Desmond's hand snapped around to face a conference room with a large glass window facing the main testing room. The man speaking was completely bald with a dark mustache and goatee. He was dressed in a striped black and white suit, his cold eyes fixed on Vidic. Desmond recognized the man as Alan Rikkin, a high up Templar, from the information Daniel had given him over the years.

"We've got the map," Vidic replied and Desmond resisted the urge to frown. That the Templars had the map that showed where the Pieces of Eden were located in the world was problematic, but Cross did have the skills to delay them. With any luck, the pieces would be displaced or in Assassin hands before the Templars arrived at each site.

"How many?" Rikkin demanded eagerly, naked greed shining in his eyes.

"At least half a dozen."

"We don't need them all." The tone was dismissive but Desmond knew better than to think that the Templars wouldn't go after every single one. The Pieces of Eden were powerful and even one in Assassin hands could prove dangerous for them.

"We should assume some amount of decay," Vidic commented. "I can't imagine they'll all still be functioning. At least two appear to reside on landmasses that no longer exist."

The mere idea that the Pieces of Eden would decay over time was ludicrous. Of course, the only other experience the modern day Templars had with an Apple was the decoy Daniel had planted, which had been destroyed during the first Abstergo satellite launch. It was a logical assumption, on their part, that the precursor objects could be destroyed by human hands, but Desmond knew better. Those Who Came Before had designed the Pieces of Eden to last, and last they would.

"We'll dispatch teams to each site and determine viability," was Rikkin's reply. "We only need one, after all."

"What about the rest?"

The greed was back in Rikkin's eyes when he snapped, "Collect them! Let's not leave anything to chance. The last thing we need is some damn survivor making trouble for us in the New World."

Desmond's nose wrinkled at the man's mention of the Templar's so-called perfect world. Their concept of the world was slavery rather than freedom to choose and, after the control his father had exerted over his life until he was sixteen, he was disgusted by that thought of that kind of control being exerted over the entire world. People should have the freedom to make choices, even if those choices were the wrong ones. "And the Assassin?" Vidic questioned, jerking his head once towards Desmond. The young man heard the sneer in Vidic's voice when he referred to Desmond as an Assassin. The Templar obviously didn't believe Desmond worthy of the title, which meant he'd done his job well. They did not expect him to be capable of fighting against whatever judgement Rikkin passed down.

"We have what we need," came the reply to Vidic's question. "Kill him." The pronouncement was not entirely unexpected but Desmond felt himself tense anyway, stomach lurching uncomfortably. He'd known that his death was a possibility from the start of this whole mess, but that didn't mean he embraced the inevitability of it now with open arms.

"Wait," Lucy cut in, crossing the room to stand next to Vidic. "You know how these things work. I doubt we'll be able to walk right in."

"What's your point?" Rikkin asked, focusing those cold eyes on the blonde.

"We might need him," Lucy said calmly. "His memories. I'd recommend we hold him until we have confirmation that there aren't any surprises waiting for us at the sites."

"This is a waste of time," Vidic hissed, scowling, but Desmond could tell by looking at Rikkin's face that the man was considering what Lucy had said.

"You said it yourself," Lucy argued, focusing all her attention on Rikkin. "We shouldn't leave anything for chance."

"Very well," Rikkin replied after a moment of thought. "Ensure we have no further need of him, then kill him."

"Fine," Vidic huffed out as Rikkin turned and walked out of sight. As soon as the more powerful Templar had left, Vidic turned on Lucy, snarling "Quit undermining my authority."

"I just saved your ass," Lucy hissed back, not backing down.

Vidic scowled at her for a moment longer before brushing by the blonde. "Let's go," he snapped over his shoulder. "We've got a lot of work to do." Lucy nodded, shooting Desmond a quick, reassuring smile before hurrying after the Templar. Vidic hesitated by the doorway to say, "Don't get too comfortable, Mr. Miles. We'll be back for your soon enough." Then he and Lucy were gone, leaving Desmond alone in the main testing room.

Desmond stood slowly and activated his Eagle Vision, scanning the room. The Apple had long ago showed him the symbols on the floor and the ones in blood Clay had painted his room with but it was somehow different seeing them in person. His throat felt as if it was sealing itself shut for a moment as he looked at Clay's ominous paintings. He stumbled to his knees, head spinning with sudden panic. The thought of painting anything in his own blood as he lay dying was sickening, but worse yet was the knowledge that he could understand such desperation. Understood what could drive a man to write his last words in blood just to know that someone would have to face part of his reality before he died.

It took a moment to calm himself. Then the Eagle Vision snapped off and Desmond stumbled to his feet, sinking gratefully down on the bed. He knew he needed to stay alert, whether in case of rescue or in case of Templars coming to kill him, but his eyes refused to stay open. His dreams started out disjointed and frightening, memories from the past mixed with glimpses of things the Apple had shown him as was usual. Then it faded away to a room made of polished cream colored marble. A familiar young woman was standing at the far ending of the room. She smiled when she saw him, lavender eyes brightening. "Desmond," she said, light, musical voice a welcome balm on his frayed nerves.

"Luna," he breathed, lunging forward to pull her into a tight hug. The last time he'd seen her, he'd been a young child with Altair's Apple of Eden pouring information into his head. It was a relief to realize he hadn't imagined her.

Luna laughed lightly and hugged him back, grip fierce around him. For a moment, Desmond basked in the friendly contact. Then he reluctantly pulled away, smiling sheepishly at her. "It's, uh, it's nice to know you're real."

"If I would have known you doubted that, I would have arranged to visit sooner," she said, gently smoothing a hand across his shoulder. "How are you?"

"I've been better," Desmond admitted, thinking of how he was waiting to die by Templar hands. "But I've been worse too." Mostly due to his father, which was something he didn't like to think about.

"You've changed things already," Luna told him. "And I wish I could tell you that your job is over, but it is not. My sisters will not be defeated so easily."

"So basically you're telling me that my job's not as finished as I thought," Desmond sighed. "Great."

"I wish I could make things easier for you, but I am limited in the ways I can interfere," she told him even as the dream world began to fade around him.

He became aware of the harried tap of approaching footsteps, the noise launching him off the bed and into a ready stance. It was a fight to force his body to slip into more uncertain body language as the footsteps stopped in front of his door. If it were an Abstergo soldier coming to kill him, he would fight, but if it were someone coming to check on him for another reason, it would do him no good to show his hand. The door hissed open, revealing a frantic looking Lucy on the other side. Her usual neat white shirt was spattered with fresh red blood and her blonde hair was coming loose. "Lucy," he breathed out, relieved, and she beckoned for him to follow her.

"We have to go," she hissed as she led him towards the animus. "I had to kill a couple guards already and it won't be long before someone finds the bodies."

"Then why are we wasting time with the animus?" Desmond asked as her fingers began to fly across the keyboard, bringing the machine to life. Even as he asked, he was already lying down on the animus, trusting her judgement. Lucy was his friend, ally, and potentially something more. If she thought some memory in the animus was important enough to risk what little time they had to escape for, then it must be.

"I got in contact with the Assassin group in charge of coming up with an effort to get you out of Abstergo," Lucy replied as the animus finished booting up. "They agreed to help with my plan to get you out of Abstergo but we're going to have to be able to help them in some way. To make it easier on you when we meet up with them, I'm going to synch you with your next ancestor here."

"Okay," Desmond breathed out as the screen came over his face. "Let's do this."

He came out of the memory five minutes later feeling much less sure of what was going on than he'd felt when he'd gone into it. He understood now why infants cry when they've been born because that was the most disorienting thing that had ever happened to him, including the first time he'd been shoved in the animus. It wasn't an experience he wanted a repeat of, although technically it already was a repeat because he'd been born once already and Desmond was going to stop thinking about it before he broke his brain. Lucy tugged at his arm, trying to gently prod him into moving, and he gasped out, "I need a minute."

"We need to go," Lucy replied urgently, blue eyes wide with fear. "We're running out of time."

"Yeah, okay," Desmond said, still feeling horribly disoriented because he'd just experienced being born. "Let's go." Lucy gave him a grateful little smile and they scrambled out of the main testing room.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be up here!" a voice yelled from behind them as Lucy swiped her keycard and typed in the correct passcode, locking the guard out while allowing them through the door.

"Open this door," a second voice yelled as they scrambled through the door and Desmond thought he heard the first voice grumble something about reporting the incident before the door hissed shut behind them. They sprinted down the hall and around a corner only to encounter another pair of guards.

"There they are," one of the men yelled. "Don't let them get away." That was the last thing he yelled because Lucy took them both down while Desmond wished that he didn't have to keep pretending he was incompetent. Still, watching Lucy fight was like watching some kind of deadly ballet so it wasn't a bad trade off.

After Lucy took care of the guards they scrambled into an elevator, heading downwards. Desmond felt himself tense and he startled when Lucy's hand rubbed his arm comfortingly. "What about the cameras?" he asked, trying to distract himself from being trapped in a small, enclosed space.

"I rigged them to loop old footage," Lucy replied like it was nothing and Desmond grinned. Lucy hadn't been half bad with computers before but this? This was new, and the good kind of new on top of that.

"You're good," he said, just to watch her flush.

"So I've been told," she replied with a little cheeky grin. The elevator stopped smoothly and they stepped out into a massive room full of what appeared to be glass dividers. Inside each was an unconscious person lying on an animus. The sight made Desmond's stomach twist and he silently pushed himself faster, knowing that if they were caught he'd be just like every other person trapped in this room. Lucy swiped her card and typed out a code again when they reached the second elevator, but this time nothing happened. "Fuck," she swore, turning to Desmond with wide eyes. "I thought this card would work. It must be on a different system and I don't have the code."

She began to pace anxiously back the way they had come but Desmond held up a hand to stop her, saying "Wait." She paused and Desmond activated his Eagle Vision, taking a look at the red prints over four of the buttons. It took him a couple tries but he finally got the correct code and the door opened.

"How did you do that?" Lucy breathed and Desmond realized abruptly that he'd never told her about the Eagle Vision. Unfortunately that didn't explain how he'd been able to see the code. From what he could tell, Eagle Vision was supposed to mark enemies, allies, and targets, not the key code for a locked door.

"I don't know," he said at last. Lucy looked at him worriedly but didn't press, instead leading him into another room and down a set of stairs to a parking garage. There were a dozen guards waiting for them, nothing that Lucy and Desmond weren't easily capable of handling but annoying regardless. It took them a few minutes with Desmond feigning ineptitude mixed with skills from Altair, which was ridiculously hard to manage, but they dropped the last of the guards, Lucy leading the way to a car and popping the trunk.

"Get in," she demanded, gesturing towards it with her head.

"You're joking," Desmond groaned, already feeling phantom bruises and aches from cramming himself in there.

"It's for your own protection."

"Oh man," Desmond grumbled but he was already climbing inside.

"Don't worry," Lucy reassured him. "You'll be out in now time." Then she slammed the trunk shut, leaving Desmond alone in the dark.


	7. Chapter Six

Daniel found himself struggling not to grin widely as Vidic stormed back and forth in a frantic rage. Alan Rikkin was supposed to be here in fifteen minutes, and Vidic was placed with the dubious pleasure of informing the higher up Templar of their failure to keep Desmond Miles contained. It was all too amusing, especially considering that one of the bargaining pieces Vidic would use in an attempt to prevent Rikkin from taking his life was Lucy Stillman. Vidic believed that the blonde woman had been drawn to the Templar side after a long period of isolation. While that might have happened in another universe, in this one Daniel and Desmond had been around the keep Lucy from feeling as if she'd been abandoned. She was firmly in their camp, though she had allowed the Templars to think otherwise.

The door to Vidic's office clicked open and Alan Rikkin stepped inside, sending a disapproving glare towards Vidic. The old man stopped pacing at once, as if frozen in place. "Where is Mr. Miles, Vidic?" Rikkin questioned, his voice completely level. He didn't move further than a step into the office, standing perfectly still aside from the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed.

"At the moment?" Vidic questioned and received a look from the other Templar that seemed to ask _How stupid do I think I am?_ Daniel bit down a wide smirk and leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest as he prepared to watch the show. It wasn't every day that one saw his boss get his ass handed to him by an angry bald man in a perpetually pinstriped suit. "I don't know."

"You lost Subject Seventeen?" Rikkin's voice was full of low menace and Vidic paled, the anger he'd been holding around himself like a shield earlier washing away.

"Yes," he replied and Rikkin's expression seemed to darken. "But Ms. Stillman is still with him," the old man hastened to add. "We haven't lost everything."

"We haven't lost everything?" Rikkin repeated, finally striding further into the room to grab Vidic by the collar. "Lucy Stillman was a loyal Assassin before separation drew her on to our side. She could be persuaded to return to them once she is back in their company. Your lack of caution could be the end of us."

"The Assassins are still weak," Vidic protested, reaching up to grab Rikkin's arm as if to prevent the other Templar from doing anything else. "Even if Ms. Stillman is swayed back over to their side, it will do them no good. We have the map, and we can easily reach the Pieces of Eden before they do."

"Or we could track 'em down and drag 'em back here," Daniel drawled from his position across the room. Rikkin turned to look at him and he shrugged, saying, "What? It's not like the kid's that great of a fighter and the Assassin's don't have enough people to spare to keep him protected by force."

"You can't possibly think that would be a good idea," Vidic snapped when he noted that Rikkin was actually considering Cross's suggestion. "The subject was already highly agitated while contained in our facility. Should we require more information from his memories, we would be more likely to cooperate with the Assassins. So long as Ms. Stillman remains loyal, I see no reason to waste manpower needed to secure the Pieces of Eden on something so trivial as to retrieve an animus subject still under our control."

_Good old Vidic._ Daniel restrained a smug smirk as the man did exactly what he'd expected him too. One could always rely on Vidic to twist any situation to his own personal gain. Undermining Daniel's suggestion was a way for Vidic to maintain his own power, which was what he'd been counting on. Vidic's power mongering ways would keep Desmond far safer from the Templar threat than anything Lucy and Daniel could currently accomplish. Rikkin pondered the suggestions, eyes staring intensely at a spot in the wall. There was a chance that Rikkin would follow Daniel's suggestion instead of Vidic's, but it was likely then that Daniel would be in charge so he could hamper the mission. It would make Daniel's life extremely complicated for an extended period of time, but it would also prevent the change from Plan A to Plan B.

"Vidic is right," Rikkin said at last, shooting a scowl at the old Templar when he looked smug at the pronouncement. "There's no need to retrieve Mr. Miles quite yet." Vidic turned to Daniel to open his mouth a make some smug, and likely immature, comment, but Rikkin cut him off by saying, "But you should remain ready, Mr. Cross, should we require your skills."

"I am at your disposal," Daniel lied, giving Rikkin a slight bow. He'd truly been at Rikkin's disposal earlier in his life, but that ship had sailed. Daniel might be little more than a tool, but he wasn't a tool in the Templar arsenal. Instead he was working for some snot nosed kid who hadn't managed to look him in the eye for longer than a couple seconds until he was nineteen. Daniel's lips quirked up in a grin at the thought. He and Desmond's first meeting had been...interesting to say the least. The second one had only been moderately better than the first.

_Snow frosted trees rustled in the icy wind. Daniel ignored it and hiked further in, towards the edge of the Assassin compound called the Farm. It had been a year since he'd been drawn into the woods at the edge of the Farm by the power of an Apple of Eden. Now he was returning there willingly, a powerful Precursor artifact tucked in his jacket. He'd sent the kid a text the night before, letting Desmond know that he was coming, but cell service was sketchy out here in the middle of nowhere. There was no guarantee that Desmond would be waiting for him in this pristine winter wonderland, but the kid had asked to be told when the Shard was located. Daniel'd found the stupid thing, and he'd deemed the information too sensitive to be trusted through a phone line. Almost no one knew better than Daniel how extensive the Templar information network stretched. They had their dirty little fingers dug into all the major sources of information, cell companies included. He'd put his life at risk enough just by texting the kid to let him know that he was coming._

_He brushed by an evergreen, needles scratching against his his jacket, and caught sight of a hunched figure huddled on a fallen tree a couple yards away. A slow grin curved across his face as he approached on silent feet. The last time he'd seen the kid, Desmond had been a nervous wreck. It had been amusing, and Daniel had no doubt that he would be further entertained today. In fact, he expected it. Desmond didn't notice him until he was only a couple feet away, turning his head curiously and then toppling off the log with a frightened yelp._

_"D-Daniel," he stuttered, struggling to push himself up out of the snow, eyes wide._

_"D-Desmond," Daniel mocked. "I see you got my message."_

_"Y-Yeah," the boy mumbled, eyes flickering away from the man's to stare somewhere over Daniel's shoulder, not saying anything further. Daniel considered making things easy for the kid but ultimately decided not to. He'd agreed to help Desmond with this crazy plan to stop the end of the world, with some helpful persuasion from an Apple of Eden, but he wanted to get of measure of who exactly he'd sold his soul to. In this case, it meant letting the kid squirm._

_Desmond managed to stumbled to his feet, shivering and wrapping his arms around his stomach. One of the too short sleeves of his jacket pulled back to reveal what looked like a bruise in the shape of a hand print on one delicate wrist. Daniel's eyes narrowed for a moment but Desmond didn't notice, gaze dropping to the ground. He had a suspicion about who had damaged the kid, which would help explain Desmond's skittish behavior, but that didn't mean Daniel had to like it. Assassin or not, no kid deserved to be knocked around by someone who should, by all rights, be protecting him. The kid's eyes flickered up to meet his before glancing away for a moment and he gnawed nervously on his lower lip for a moment. "D-did you..." Desmond trailed off a moment, arms dropping down to his sides before one hand came up restlessly to rub against the elbow of his other arm. "Did you get the S-Shard?"_

_"Why else would I be here?" Daniel asked rhetorically, lips quirking up into a thin smile, and the kid's cheeks flushed a dull, embarrassed red. It hadn't been Daniel's intention to mock the kid, but it wasn't really in him to apologize so he pushed on instead. "I figured you wouldn't trust my word on it, so I brought proof." He pulled the Shard from an inner pocket of his coat and tossed it at the kid, not at all surprised when Desmond easily caught it, despite the fact that the kid hadn't really been looking at it when Daniel had thrown it. Desmond had decent reflexes, considering how undernourished and tiny he was for a fourteen year old._

_Daniel watched as the kid turned the Shard carefully over in his hands, the metal gleaming slightly. He thought he noticed a few swirling, twisting patterns carved into its surface that he hadn't noticed when he'd uncovered it. Following the historical trail to the Shard's last hiding spot had taken him the better part of eight months, especially because he had to do so without drawing Templar attention, but if this piece of metal could prevent the sun from frying the Earth to a crisp, then it would be worth the effort. "Does it work?" Desmond asked, so mesmerized by the Shard that his nervous stutter faded away._

_"One way to find out," Daniel replied, smoothly removing his silenced pistol and firing it in the general vicinity of the kid's shoulder, confidant that the sound would be soft enough to not be detected by Assassins at the nearby compound._

_He half expected a squeal of shocked pain when the bullet impacted with the kid's shoulder or some sort of pinging sound as it was deflected by some barely visible force. What he got was neither. Instead the Shard glowed an almost blinding gold color, Desmond cried out in panic, and Daniel was forced to dive to the ground as the bullet was silently propelled back the direction it had come by some invisible force at an incredible speed. The light faded away as quickly as it had come, the bullet embedding itself deeply in some tree trunk, and Daniel cautiously climbed to his feet. Desmond was sprawled in the snow, Shard clutched tightly to his chest and his eyes wide._

_"Y-You," Desmond stuttered out, shaking a little. "You s-shot at me."_

_"You wanted to know if the Shard worked," Daniel replied casually, tucking the gun away. "Now we know."_

_"B-b-but," Desmond stammered. "Y-You tried to k-kill me."_

_"The bullet would have only clipped your shoulder if the Shard didn't work," Daniel informed the kid. "It wasn't going to kill you." Desmond didn't look convinced, and when Daniel held out his hand to take the Shard back, the kid clutched it closer to his chest. "If you want the Shard to end up in the Templar satellite however many years from now, I need it back, unless you want to become their house guest early."_

_"You tried to s-shoot me," Desmond protested, fingers clinging to the Shard so tightly that his knuckles were white._

_"But I didn't," Daniel returned. When the kid still didn't look convinced, Daniel added, "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. It wouldn't be that hard to overpower you and take the Shard, and you don't have the Apple with you this time." Desmond's grip loosened on the Shard and little and Daniel kept his hand outstretched, saying "Hand over the Shard, kid." Desmond did at last, cautiously, and Daniel grinned as he tucked the Shard away. "Good boy." He thought he saw the kid scowl before his flighty gaze turned back towards the ground._

_For a moment, Daniel considered sticking around to see if the kid had any further orders. Abruptly he came to the conclusion that he hadn't sunken so far as to patiently await orders from a fourteen year old. Instead he turned on his heel and headed back the way he'd come from, half expecting the kid to stop him. When Desmond didn't, he stopped himself, turning partially to glance at the small, slumped figure that was huddled in the snow, head pressed against his knees. The sight was horribly pitiful, and Daniel felt something that was almost guilt twist in his gut. "See you in six months, kid," he mocked lightly and then continued on his way out of the woods._

Those were the good days, Daniel decided as Rikkin turned on his heel and marched out of the office. That left Daniel alone with a triumphant, but still fuming, Vidic who returned to pacing the floor. Daniel observed the old man for a moment before rolling his eyes and pushing himself upright, not in the mood to listen to the Templar rant about incompetence and perceived slights to him. He'd stuck around for the entertainment, but the fun was over. "Where do you think you're going?" Vidic demanded as Daniel pushed himself off the wall and headed for the door.

"To the gym," Daniel replied dryly. "Unless you want me to break out in disjointed Russian and start waving my gun around." Vidic paled at the mention of the Bleeding Effect, unable to face the disaster just waiting to happen that he'd created, and quickly waved Daniel out of his office. Daniel headed for the gym with a smirk, relishing in the fact that his under control Bleeding Effect gave him an easy way to get out of certain unpleasant situations. While he would have appreciated not having to deal with the Bleeding Effect at all, this wasn't exactly a bad side effect.


	8. Chapter Seven

Desmond slid out of the trunk of the car and stretched, muscles aching. Despite Lucy's best effort, the drive to the Assassin safe house had been anything but smooth. "Sorry," the blonde apologized sheepishly as his back popped, providing relief from the stiffness that had built up there during the bumpy ride.

"It's okay," he told her, sighing in relief as his muscles relaxed. "We got out of Abstergo before one of the Templars decided to shoot me. That's more important than my immediate comfort."

"If sure Dan- I'm sure a mutual friend of ours would agree with that sentiment," Lucy agreed with a brilliant, relieved grin. It looked as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders and Desmond felt his cheer at being free from Templars abruptly fade. Lucy had been forced to work inside Abstergo with only occasional cryptic conversations with Daniel to tide her over. Worse was the knowledge that she'd done all this because Desmond had asked her to. "Are you okay, Des?" One of Lucy's slim hands lifted up to rest against his shoulder, forcing him to lift his downtrodden gaze in order to give her a weak smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he told her. She opened her mouth to protest, obviously not convinced, but Desmond pushed forward, not giving her a chance to speak. "Let's go meet the team we're going to be stuck with until the end of this mess." Lucy frowned at him but turned and lead the way into the current hideout of their new Assassin friends. Desmond breathed out a soft sigh of relief, taking a moment to school his expression before following her. His issues were his own. They weren't something that Lucy needed to concern herself with, especially after being surrounded by Templars for years with little to no contact to the outside world.

"Lucy, you made it!" an exuberant female voice called as Lucy stepped through the doorway in front of him. "God, it's been so long. Can you believe it?" A woman with short dark hair and headphones flung her arms tightly around the blonde.

Desmond watched as Lucy hugged the dark haired woman back, fighting his instinctive reaction to attack when a British accented voice added, "Indeed. Welcome back." The red haired man hugged Lucy after the dark haired woman stepped away, and his eyes fell on Desmond. "Ah, so this must be the infamous Subject Seventeen. Desmond Miles, was it?"

"Who are you?" Desmond asked, barely contained hostility radiating in his voice in response to the clear dismissal in the other man's tone.

"I'm sorry," the red head said in a tone that clearly stated he wasn't. "Where are my manners? I'm Shaun Hastings. This is Rebecca Crane."

"They were my contacts while I was in Abstergo," Lucy added, placing a calming hand on one of Desmond's tense shoulders. "And they worked with me before I went under cover there."

"Nice to meet you, Desmond," Rebecca spoke up with a cheerful smile, stepping forward and offering him her hand. He shook it cautiously, noting her firm grim. He released her hand and she stepped back, still grinning as if she was unaware of how tense Desmond was. It had been years since he'd been around this many Assassins and it made him incredibly nervous. He half expected his father to appear out of thin air and snap at him to do something useful instead of standing around like an idiot. Lucy's hand rubbed against his shoulder comfortingly, as if sensing his thoughts, and Desmond made a conscious effort to relax.

"Right, well its been lovely chatting, but if you don't mind, Desmond, it's best we get back to work," Shaun said briskly. "Time is precious, doubly so in these days." Part of Desmond wanted terribly to inform the Brit that Daniel would stall the Templars and that they had plenty of time anyway because the world wasn't about to end in December, not with the Shard in place, but he wasn't even supposed to know about the coming danger. Not yet at least. Sometimes knowing the future was incredibly frustrating.

"We've got everything set up and ready, Lucy," Rebecca chimed in, still smiling. "Just say the word and we'll get going."

"Oh, here," Lucy said, turning her attention from Desmond as she dug around in her pocket and retrieved something. "I brought you something. A parting gift from Abstergo."

"Whoa, the memory core," Rebecca gushed, taking the core from Lucy with reverence. "This is amazing! With their data, things are gonna go a lot faster. I'll get to work on merging the code." The dark haired woman all but skipped off towards what looked like a cross between a lounge and the animus at Abstergo. Shaun had already wandered off to his own corner, dominated by bulletin boards with all kinds of papers tacked to it.

"Are you going to be okay on your own?" Lucy asked softly, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder again. "I need to make a report to...well I need to make a report." Desmond nodded in acknowledgement, grateful that she hadn't directly mentioned his father. He was jumpy enough already without hearing references to Bill Miles as the Mentor. The blonde smiled at him and then headed for what appeared to be a neat, newly set up work station with a sleek laptop, settling down behind the table.

Desmond scanned the room, automatically searching every corner for signs of danger with his eagle vision, before cautiously approaching Rebecca. Of the two Assassins he'd been introduced to, the dark haired woman seemed more friendly and open. He'd known Shaun for all of five minutes but the man's prickly attitude had already rubbed him the wrong way. The dark haired woman looked up at the sound of his approaching footsteps and her frown of concentration faded away to a friendly grin. "Hey Desmond," she chirped. "What's up?"

"Just wonder what your role is in all this," Desmond replied as casually as possible, struggling to keep eye contact with Rebecca. While he'd been confidant of his position as a test subject in Abstergo, he felt thrown off balance in the safe house. Shaun and Rebecca were people that Desmond wasn't sure whether or not to trust, and he'd never exactly been good at making friends. His father had kept him away from other children, for the most part, and Desmond's nervousness had finished driving them away. By the time he'd run away from the Farm at sixteen, the only people he trusted were Lucy, Daniel, and Luna.

"I take care of Baby," Rebecca told him. "It's my job to keep her up and running."

"Baby?" Desmond questioned before he realized exactly what she was talking about. "You mean the animus."

"Actually I prefer animus two-point-oh, since Baby's twice as awesome as anything you'll find at Abstergo," Rebecca replied with a wide, eager grin, looking happy to have someone to share with. Desmond smiled hesitantly back at her and watched her smile widen. "The Templars might have deeper pockets than us, but they've got no ambition, no passion, no competitive edge. That's why, even with all their resources, anything they can do, I can do better. Faster too. I just need to make a few more adjustments and we'll be ready to go."

Desmond nodded and backed away from her work station so he wouldn't interrupt what she was doing. Judging by the odd expression on Rebecca's face, that hadn't been the reaction she had expected, but he felt too thrown by his current situation to figure out what he'd done wrong. Instead of trying to puzzle it out, he forced himself to turn and at least try to interact with Shaun. If he was going to be stuck with the sarcastic Brit, he might as well try not to feel like curling into a little ball every time he had to talk to the other man. Shaun's work area was a conglomeration of boards with different articles and pictures tacked up on it, some connected with little pieces of red string. His desk was covered with books opened to different pages and the web browser on his laptop had more tabs open than Desmond ever remembered seeing in his life. It was kind of like looking at the aftermath of the one tornado he'd seen when he'd been stuck in a tiny Indiana town for month and trying to puzzle out what had happened.

"What's all this..." Desmond paused for a moment, looking for the correct word before giving up. "Stuff for?" he finished lamely.

Apparently that was the exact wrong thing to say. "This stuff, Desmond," Shaun began in the tone of someone who was trying very hard not to throw something. "Oh this stuff is nothing special, really. This stuff is just the stuff that keeps our entire operation from falling apart, really. It required a great deal of concentration to keep it all moving, so you'll forgive me if I don't have time to play meet and greet."

Desmond retreated immediately in the face of that rant, brushing by Rebecca, who had her mouth open as if she'd been about to jump into what had been a very one sided discussion, to stand next to Lucy. He missed the exasperated scowl the brunette shot in Shaun's direction, too busy telling himself that not every Assassin was like his father and that he'd probably interrupted something important. Lucy's hand wrapped around his wrist without her even glancing at him, her thumb rubbing comforting circles on his pulse. "You okay?" she murmured. Desmond didn't reply, still trying to convince his heart not to leap out of his throat. Lucy paused from her work and glanced up, blue eyes concerned. "Des?"

"I'm okay," he rasped out, feeling like he was choking, and she frowned. He gave her a weak smile in return but her gaze didn't waver.

"Des, are you sure?"

"When I am ever sure about anything?" he returned in a low voice, startling a weak laugh out of her. She studied him for a moment longer before returning to her work, her fingers remaining around his wrist until his heart stopped pounding.

"All done," Rebecca practically sang out from across the room, her smile looking a little more forced than the ones she'd given him previously. "Baby and I are ready when you are, Desmond."

"Please don't say that phrase ever again," Shaun said in a long-suffering tone from his work station. Rebecca shook her head at him as Desmond slipped his wrist carefully free of Lucy's hold. She shot him a worried look but didn't try to stop him as he headed across the room.

"Spoil sport," Rebecca said, pouting childishly and crossing her arms.

Desmond sat down cautiously on the animus, settling back carefully. He had to admit that Rebecca's model was more comfortable than what Abstergo had put him in. That, at least, was a plus. "So how does this work?" he asked cautiously and Rebecca showed him an IV with an apologetic smile. "Of course," Desmond droned, incredibly unsurprised. His life usually usually worked like this.

"Deep breath," Rebecca told him brightly and Desmond obeyed, not even wincing when she inserted the needle in his arm. "Nicely done," she said. "We'll see you on the other side." Desmond managed to give her a weak smile before she lowered the screen and Desmond was catapulted into his ancestral memories.

Once she was sure that Desmond was safe inside his ancestor's memory, Rebecca turned her attention to Lucy and asked the question that had been on her lips since she'd first been introduced to the Mentor's son. "What's going on?" She and Shaun had both joined the Assassins when they were fully grown but they'd heard the rumors about William Miles's self-centered, spoiled son who'd run away at sixteen to do what he wanted instead of sticking around to help people. Rebecca wasn't one to mindlessly buy into stereotypes and other people's perceptions of those around them, but she'd had an idea of how Desmond Miles was supposed to behave. The skittish young man Lucy had brought back from Abstergo didn't fit any of her preconceptions.

Rebecca hadn't ever pictured Desmond Miles as a selfish young man, especially not after meeting Bill once. The man demanded absolute obedience from everyone around him and the brunette had doubted that he would let his son get away with that kind of rebellion. What she had pictured was a young man stubborn enough, and confidant enough, to run away at sixteen and choose his own path in life. The real Desmond Miles was nothing like that. He had trouble meeting her eyes, one of Shaun's typical sarcastic tirades had run him off, and the only person in their little safe house he seemed to be comfortable around was Lucy. It was worrying, to say the least.

"What do you mean?" Lucy inquired in response to Rebecca's question, glancing up from the report she was putting together for Bill.

"With Desmond," Rebecca pressed and Shaun actually paused in the middle of his work, paying attention to the conversation.

"Nothing's wrong with Desmond," Lucy snapped defensively, blue eyes turning frosty.

"Lucy-" Rebecca sputtered in protest but, surprisingly, Shaun came to her rescue.

"Lucy, you cannot say that it is reasonable to be that jumpy around people who are on your side and rescued you from death at the hands of the Templar Order," the Brit pointed out reasonably.

"Desmond is fine," Lucy said coldly, turning back to her computer as if that was the end of the conversation. Rebecca and Shaun exchanged a single look, having worked together long enough to read one another. Neither one was convinced, but a quick glance at Lucy confirmed that the blonde was unwilling to speak further about that particular subject. Rebecca frowned, unhappy but unwilling to press the subject when they'd just gotten there friend back from her position within the Templar ranks. For now, she and Shaun would take Lucy's word on it, but it was going to be a lot harder than Rebecca initially thought to make friends with the newest member of their team.


	9. Chapter Eight

Ezio Auditore, Desmond decided when he came out of the animus, was much different from Altair. He wasn't certain yet whether or not that was a good thing or not, especially considering his ancestors intentions towards Christina. That was not something Desmond needed to witness, ever. Rebecca pulled back the screen and he sat up cautiously, lifting a hand to rub his eyes. "How are you doing?" Rebecca asked, smiling down at him.

"Okay," Desmond replied softly and her smile widened.

"That's good," she told him, fiddling with something on Baby's control panel.

"You're making amazing progress," Lucy added, her heeled boots clicking as she crossed the floor to stand in front of him.

"Amazing is quite a strong word," Shaun commented dryly from his corner but Lucy ignored him.

"We're just stopping because prolonged exposure to the animus can have something unfortunate side effects," Lucy told him. "You aren't showing any of the symptoms but we don't want to push you too hard and send you spiraling." Her gaze was meaningful, trying to tell him something, but Desmond was better at reading Daniel than he was at reading Lucy.

"What should I do in the meantime?" Desmond asked, giving her a questioning glance in response.

"I was hoping we could test out your skill retention," Lucy suggested innocently, blue eyes sparkling at him. She knew that whatever skills he'd display during her little test would have less to do with the animus and more to do with several years of training with Daniel every chance they got. The fact that everyone else considered him completely inept had quickly become a joke among the three of them.

"I'm game," Desmond told her with a genuine smile.

"Great," Lucy replied, smiling at him in reply. "Meet me downstairs when you're ready." Then she turned and headed out of the room, only pausing to grab something off her desk.

"Nice work today," Rebecca said as the door swung shut behind Lucy. "You're a natural."

"Thanks," Desmond said awkwardly, glancing down at his feet. He'd never been good at taking a compliment, probably because he wasn't used to getting them. "You, uh, your animus is a lot nicer than the one at Abstergo."

"Thank you," Rebecca chirped, grin widening. Then she turned to smile rather smugly at Shaun's back, adding, "I told you so."

"Don't you have something to do that is more important than taunting me?" Shaun questioned, glancing over his shoulder to scowl at her.

"No," Rebecca replied cheerily. "I'm just going to gloat over the fact that the bad guys don't always get the good stuff."

"There is a problem with your logic, Becca," Shaun replied, leaning over his work again.

"And what exactly is that," Rebecca demanded, hands on her hips.

"You make the assumption that we are the 'good guys'."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rebecca was scowling now and Desmond shrank in on himself a little, unwilling to interrupt the brewing argument.

"In case you've forgotten, Rebecca, we're assassins. I could look it up for you, if you like. Basically, it means we assassinate people." Rebecca let out an irritated huff and turned puppy dog eyes towards Desmond, as if looking for help.

"Only when it is necessary," he said softly and the brunette beamed at him.

"It's a choice," Shaun argued, spinning around his chair to direct his glare at both of them. "You're choosing to kill." Desmond shrugged, looking down at his feet. When he'd been learning about what it meant to be an Assassin, Desmond had made the mistake of asking how a fully trained Assassin choose their target.

"You do not choose anything," his father had snapped. "You are a tool to be wielded, and you'll do as your told." His father's tone had been so venomous that Desmond had been unwilling to ask any more questions he had about what he was being taught.

"Desmond, are you okay?" Rebecca asked and Desmond stood, sliding around the animus and backing towards Lucy's desk.

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna find Lucy," he told her and hurried out of the room.

Lucy was waiting for him on the main floor of the warehouse where they were currently hiding. Her smiled when he hurried down the steps to meet her. "Des?" she asked, concerned, but a head shake stopped her.

"Just..." he paused, stopping that sentence before it could escape. "What do we need to talk about?"

"Our mutual friend is stalling the other side as much as he can," Lucy told him. "At least according to his incredibly vague message when he finally got around to contacting me. Apparently he's managed to hide the recording of the map somewhere in Abstergo's servers. Meanwhile he's going to track down as many of the artifacts as he can."

"He's going to need help," Desmond pointed out and Lucy nodded.

"I know, but who can we trust?" Desmond frowned, chewing on his lower lip in thought. With the Assassins under his father's control, he wasn't certain he could trust anyone within the organization. It had been hard enough to bring himself to trust Daniel Cross, especially after their first meeting.

_Desmond clutched the Apple of Eden to his chest, making his way through a break in the fence on the far north side of the Farm. Compound security had yet to discover the hole in the electric fence, probably because his father had been running him ragged. The now deceased former Mentor had just been buried five and a half months ago and everyone was still on high alert since the traitor, Daniel Cross, was still on the loose. It was in this atmosphere the Desmond crept out from beneath the fence, knowing the Cross wasn't far away basking in the chaos he had caused._

_Every day since he'd discovered the Apple, Desmond had been pulling it out nightly, hoping it would show him a time where he could approach Cross without being killed. It had finally showed him the Templar two days ago, heading towards the Farm. It had taken Lucy those two days to convince Desmond to actually attempt to speak to Cross. He'd been terrified to even consider sneaking out to talk to the man who'd killed the last Mentor and a large chunk of the Assassin leadership. He was still terrified, but with the Apple clutched in his hand, he had hope that he would survive this encounter. Snow crunched under his feet and a cold breeze rustled through his hair. Desmond warily surveyed his surroundings, back to the fence. Cautiously he stepped forward, making his way deeper into the woods._

_The Apple hadn't been very specific about where outside the boundaries of the Farm he would find Cross. Desmond had a horrible feeling about how this whole meeting would go, but he couldn't back out now. Not after promising Lucy that he'd at least try to make the Templar see reason. He continued to move forward, eyes trying to look everywhere at once. It didn't help him one bit when Cross, for all practical purposes, dropped from the sky. Desmond let out a little, startled yelp and tried to squirm free as the Apple rolled across the snow to rest against a tree trunk. He stretched out his free arm, trying to grab it, but before he could come anywhere close, he was pulled up by the back of his jacket._

_"Well what do we have here?" a voice crooned and Desmond found himself staring into amused ice blue eyes. "Desmond Miles. I thought your father would keep a better eye on a little runt like you." Desmond whimpered and flailed a little, trying to break free of the hold on the collar of his old winter jacket. It didn't earn him anything aside from an amused smirk on Cross's face. "What did you drag out of your little compound with you?"_

_Desmond flailed harder and Cross laughed, tossing him aside like he was a rag doll. He coughed, trying to pull in a full breath and watching with wide, frightened eyes as the Templar approached the Apple. The artifact had begun to glow and when Cross knelt to pick it up, the Apple flared brightly enough that Desmond had to close his eyes. When he opened them, Cross was lying on the ground, eyes closed. Desmond scrambled to his feet, taking a chance and darting towards the Apple in the hopes that he could grab it before Cross roused himself from whatever it had done to him. He didn't make it. A hand wrapped around his ankle, pulling him off balance, and he toppled to the ground with a surprised, pained sound._

_The Apple had come free from Cross's hand at some point and had, somehow, rolled around so it was just within Desmond's reach. He wrapped his fingers around it and twisted around just in time to see Cross lunge at him, the bright metal of a hidden blade gleaming in the moonlight. He let out a startled gasp, unable to pull enough air into his lungs to scream, and the Apple blazed with heat against his palm, sending Cross stumbling back. The man was swearing in a language that was either German or Russian, Desmond had never been good enough with foreign languages to tell the difference between most of them, and scowling fiercely as if he expected the look alone to strike Desmond dead. Considering the glare he was receiving, the thirteen year old wouldn't have been overly surprised if it would have worked._

_Pulling in a hitching breath, Desmond stared uncertainly at Cross. He'd thought this was a bad idea to begin with, but now he was certain. Daniel Cross had attacked him, attempted to take the Apple, and tried to kill him within the span of ten minutes. There was absolutely no way that Desmond was ever going to be able to trust this man with the plan he had. It wasn't happening. He pushed himself upright, swaying a little and shivering as the chill seemed to sink into his bones. Cross was sitting on the ground, still glaring at him, and when Desmond cautiously being inching his way around the Templar, the man made no move to stop him._

_Desmond made it a few steps, the Apple's glow dimming steadily, and then stopped with a weary sigh. As much as he wanted to walk away from this conversation, he knew he couldn't. The Apple had shown him the future, and he'd seen where that path ended. Lucy would be dead, he'd be trapped with an impossible task, and, in the end, Juno would roam the Earth. The other option, allowing the world to burn because he didn't want to die, wasn't even worth considering. He turned back, not all that surprised to see Cross on his feet. The man had been an Assassin, if only for a little while, and even if he hadn't, the Templars had to know that being sprawled on the ground during a fight was never a good thing. The Templar arched and eyebrow at him and Desmond chewed on his lower lip, considering how to begin._

_In the end, Cross started the conversation for him, snapping, "Are you going to say something or just let your precious Precursor artifact knock me about?" Somehow, Desmond was utterly unsurprised that the Templars already knew about the Apples of Eden. They'd had more resources than the Brotherhood of Assassins for years now, which meant they were more able to dig into the past._

_"D-Daniel C-Cross," Desmond stuttered, which earned him a smirk._

_"So you know who I am," the man replied. "Good. I was beginning to think I'd just fade away into anonymity after I'd played my part."_

_After what Cross had accomplished, Desmond highly doubted that. Killing an Assassin Mentor was the kind of thing that ended up in the history books, or at least embedded in local legend for centuries, but something about Cross's phrasing bothered the boy. Cross had said he'd played a part, like he was nothing more than a pawn in a larger game. Even if Desmond hadn't already known how this story was supposed to play out, he wouldn't have liked the implications of that. Still there was resentment there, as if he'd served whatever purpose the Templar Order had needed him to and been tossed aside. Desmond could use that. "You're n-not happy with t-them," Desmond managed to get out, flinching back when Cross's amused expression faded away to anger._

_"What is it to you?" the Templar demanded, seeming to forget all about what the Apple had done to him before as he lunged forward to loom over the thirteen year old._

_Desmond wasn't sure how to respond to that, but the Apple seemed to know what to do. It flared with light again and Desmond caught a rush of images that he was pretty sure Cross was getting as well. He didn't understand what he was seeing, but when the light faded away Cross was staring at him with furious, pained eyes. "You," the man snarled, Desmond stumbling back a couple steps until his back connected with the rough bark of a tree. "What did you show me?"_

_"N-Nothing," Desmond stuttered, shooting a quick glare down at the Apple. The artifact had saved his life, but what it had shown him was the reason why he was in danger in the first place, so he wasn't all that grateful._

_Cross's hands clenched into fists and Desmond cringed back, expecting to be hit, but a moment later the man seemed to gain control of himself again. "Fine," he said, tone a low growl. "What did you make the artifact show me?"_

_"N-Nothing," Desmond stuttered and cringed when Cross moved forward to loom over him. "B-But whatever it s-showed you was p-probably t-true." Cross's cold eyes seemed to stare directly through the thirteen year old as he considered what he'd been told and whatever the Apple had shown him. Trapped against the tree, Desmond waited anxiously for the Templar's decision, wondering whether or not he should have said his goodbye to Lucy before he'd come out here. They'd known there was a chance that Cross would kill Desmond when they'd found out he was coming, but Lucy had insisted that they had to try._

_At last the man stepped back, gaze suddenly calculating in a way that made Desmond feel like an insignificant little bug, and asked, "What do you need from me?" Desmond took a deep breath, looked down at his feet, and did his best to explain._

"Des?" Lucy asked, breaking him free from the past.

"I don't know if there is anyone we can trust," he admitted, glancing down at his feet. "The Assassins are under my father's control and if he hears I'm giving orders, he'll completely undermine any credibility I have."

"You grew up around other Assassins, right?" Lucy prodded. "Are there any that lead their respective section of the Assassins that aren't completely under his control? Or someone high enough up that no one will question what they're doing too closely?"

"Maybe," Desmond hedged, considering his options. He had met a few children of leaders of different Assassin sections when his father had become Mentor. He hadn't really made friends with any of them, but at least they hadn't stuck around long enough to think he was completely incompetent. "I have a few people you could at least approach."

"Here," Lucy said, pulling out a small pad of paper and a pencil from her shoulder bag and handing it over. "Write them down and I'll see if I can convince them to grab the Pieces of Eden near them. Then we can come up with a test for your abilities, just for show." He smiled and then leaned over the paper, scribbling down the correct names and hoping he'd made the right decision.


	10. Chapter Nine

Desmond catapulted awake with a desperate cry on his lips and the image of Malik Al-Sayf, younger than Desmond had ever seen him, leaping into a fight after his younger brother, Kadar. Desmond could feel Altair's panic at the idea something might happen to one of his only friends, the emotion so thick that it seemed to clog his throat. His heart was pounding in his chest and his skin was soaked in sweat. He panted for breath as he stared at the blank wall just a few feet away, reminding himself that he was Desmond, not Altair, and that obviously Malik had survived because he had been around to snark at Desmond's ancestor during his animus sessions at Abstergo. He closed his eyes and pressed his head against his knees, arms shaking when he wrapped them around his legs.

It wasn't as if Desmond didn't know exactly what was going on. He'd learned about the Bleeding Effect from the Apple long before the Templars had ever been able to manufacture an animus. That didn't make things better. The only difference between the Desmond the Apple had shown him and himself was that he knew, without Lucy telling him, that he was going crazy. It was not a comforting thought. He shuddered and bit down hard on his lip so that the sob building up didn't escape. Suddenly feeling suffocated, he scrambled to his feet, eyes scanning the room. Since the Assassin safe house was a warehouse, they were all spread out on air mattresses in the same room. Lucy was curled up in a little ball inside her sleeping bag, breathing evenly, and Rebecca was sprawled out on her stomach in her own, snoring softly. On Desmond's other side, Shaun's sleeping bag was empty.

After being with the Assassins for a few days, Desmond knew enough of their routines to guess that the Brit was working on database entries and pouring over Desmond's recorded animus sessions. The knowledge that his little episode hadn't woken anyone was incredibly relieving and he knelt, grabbing his sweat shirt and slipping on his shoes before creeping towards the door. He was already dressed, his training through the animus and memories of Daniel ambushing him as part of his training when he was seventeen keeping him from stripping when he went to sleep, so it was simple to slip on his sweatshirt in preparation of sneaking out for a breath of fresh air in the hope that it could clear away the last, lingering images of Masyaf. He paused once at the door, glancing back into the room to make sure he hadn't woken either of the girls. He didn't notice Rebecca's green eyes tracking his movements.

Desmond made his way quietly down the concrete hall in the opposite directly of the room with the animus, taking the stairs that led to the warehouse room. Stepping outside on to sheet metal, he breath out a sigh of relief as cool wind smacked his face. The sounds and smells of Masyaf all those centuries ago faded away, replaced by the distant clamor of New York in the evening. Desmond settled cautiously on the rooftop, making sure he wasn't going to slide off before relaxing a bit. The chill of the evening sank through his clothes where they were resting against the metal roof. "Can you see the stars from here?" a voice asked from the entrance to the roof and Desmond flinched, jerking to his feet and whipping around to see Rebecca staring at him with wide eyes.

"Sorry," she apologized, and then offered him a sheepish smile. "Mind if I join you?"

"If you want," Desmond replied, sinking down cautiously to see on the roof again. Rebecca climbed the rest of the way out and settled next to him, her arm warm where it pressed up against his own.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before the brunette shivered, wrapping her arms around her chest. Desmond slipped out of his sweatshirt and handed it to her without meeting her eyes. "Thanks," she said once she'd wrestled it on and Desmond nodded in uncomfortable acknowledgement. He honestly wasn't certain of what to think about Shaun and Rebecca. Of the two of them, the perky brunette was easier to like, but Desmond had discovered that he made friends more easily with women than men, probably because he half expected some sort of abuse from the men. Shaun's abrasive attitude didn't help with that perception, and Desmond avoided the Brit as much as possible, if for no other reason than to avoid the sick, churning feeling he got in his stomach when someone he didn't know if he could trust snapped at him.

He wasn't certain if he could trust Rebecca either, but he wanted to. She was friendly and open, all her emotions written on her face for the world to see. Furthermore, she was trying to at least build some kind of amicable working relationship between the two of them. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough for him. The plan he, Lucy, and Daniel had agonized over until it was perfect, required no slips. Should he be wrong about Rebecca's loyalties, it would ruin everything. It didn't mean he couldn't be kind to the brunette, but the knowledge was incredibly effective at keeping him from attempting to form some kind of friendship.

"How are you not freezing?" Rebecca demanded, breaking the silence. Desmond shrugged, unwilling to admit that the cold grounded him, along with the noises from the city. She frowned at him and grabbed his arm, releasing it when he twitched a little. "Come on," she ordered. "If we're going to stay up until the sun rises, we might as well do it where it's warm." She paused a moment, seeming the remember the chill the permeated the warehouse, and then added, "Or at least warmer."

Desmond reluctantly followed Rebecca back into the warehouse, and then into main room. Shaun was bent over his laptop, skin bleached even whiter by the glow of the computer screen. The Brit glanced up when Rebecca and Desmond entered, tracking their movements until Rebecca was sitting on her rolling chair and Desmond was perched on the edge of the animus. Then he turned back to his research, keys clicking under his fingers. "So what sent you to the roof anyway?" Rebecca inquired.

"I needed a little fresh air," Desmond mumbled, staring down at the floor.

"Totally understandable," Rebecca replied and when Desmond glanced up, her gaze was sympathetic. A moment later she brightened and spun her chair towards her laptop. "Oh, oh! I've got an idea," she chirped, fingers flying on the keyboard. A moment later she was shoving Desmond over and settling into the animus next to him. Without any explanation, she settled the laptop on their legs and pressed play. Desmond startled a little when he was assaulted by opening music, but within a couple minutes he was relaxing into the animus. Rebecca had picked some action movie he didn't recognize, not that he'd actually seen very many movies, and it was nice to just mindlessly watch what was going on instead of being involved in the action. His eyes slowly began to drift closed. By the time they made it halfway through the movie, he had fallen into a peaceful sleep.

Rebecca didn't dare move for fear of disturbing the newest member of their little Assassin team. Even before he'd jolted awake with a sound that was almost a sob, he'd roused her by thrashing about in his sleeping bag. Watching him, she had been surprised that he hadn't rolled off the air mattress still wrapped up in his sleeping bag. Tracking him to the rooftop of the warehouse had been worrisome, and she'd been afraid that he was going to throw himself off it. Rebecca had read Lucy's reports from Abstergo, and she knew exactly what prolonged exposure to the animus did to a person. Clay Kaczmarek was just the latest in a long list of people that had ended their lives while suffering from the Bleeding Effect.

Judging from Lucy's reports, most of the animus subjects had ended their own lives. Vidic had survived his short time in the animus seemingly unharmed and Daniel Cross was also alive, but he was plagued by the Bleeding Effect. The blonde had theorized that there might be one more subject that had survived, but the other thirteen had ended their lives in various, sometimes creative, ways. Even though she'd only known him for a few days, Rebecca didn't want Desmond to be the next victim in a long line.

Pushing bleak thoughts away, the brunette tried to focus as Jason Bourne tracked down the people who'd been trying to kill him. Rebecca was a huge action movie buff and she had a variety of different films saved on her computer. Before she'd joined the Assassins, she'd also had a Netflix queue full of a variety of action and horror movies, but she'd dropped that when she signed up on this crew. There was too much of a chance of being tracked by Templars through that account. The movie came to a close and Rebecca silenced it before beginning to search for another, sleep no longer sounding appealing after seeing the hopeless longing in Desmond's eyes as he'd stared out into the night.

"So you've subjected Miles to your horrible taste in movies," Shaun said, dark circles thick under his eyes as he paused next to her. "Congratulations."

"Exhaustion ruins your wit, Shaun," she replied with a grin. "You've been researching too long."

"Nonsense," came the swift reply. "I'm only trying to keep our arguing down to a minimum so our poor test subject can get some rest." Rebecca rolled her eyes at Shaun's sarcasm and turned her attention back to her movies. It took a minute to bring up another, Christopher Nolan's Batman adaptation, and she expected Shaun to leave, either to return to his work or to go catch a few hours of sleep before they needed to start Desmond's animus sessions for the day. Instead he said, "Why'd you drag him in here at this time of night anyway? And why are you wearing his sweatshirt?"

"He had a nightmare and ended up on the roof," she said, turning away from the opening to look Shaun in the eye. "He handed over his sweatshirt when he noticed I was cold and I managed to convince him to come in."

"Bleeding Effect?" Shaun's voice was grim, and Rebecca nodded in agreement.

"At least I think so. He wouldn't say." She glanced over at Desmond, whose face was wrinkled in what looked like pain. "Maybe he'll tell Lucy."

"Yes, he does seem to be rather attached to her," the Brit commented. Rebecca hummed in agreement, watching the events that would make Bruce Wayne into Batman play out on the screen. "He's not like I expected," Shaun admitted after a moment.

"I know what you mean." She glanced back at Shaun and gave him a smile, "Get some rest Shaun, otherwise you won't be able to snark properly tomorrow and Lucy might think something is wrong."

"It's already tomorrow," Shaun informed her, but he was already heading for their sleeping quarters, footsteps heavy. Rebecca shook her head and turned her attention towards Batman.

She fell asleep halfway through the movie and woke to a startled noise in her ear. Rebecca jolted upright, elbowing Desmond in the side. He winced but didn't protest, mumbling an apology for waking her before retreating towards the bathroom. Rebecca watched him go, trying to wake her mind up fully, and then slid out of the animus. Her laptop had fallen asleep at some point and she plugged it in, guessing it was probably close to dying. White fabric slipped over her hands and she realized she was still wearing Desmond's sweatshirt. She slipped it off and folded it carefully, placing it on the edge of the animus. That would allow Desmond to pick it up before he started today's session and still pretend that the events of last night never happened. Rebecca would be okay with that so long as it helped build up trust between herself and someone she hoped to befriend.


	11. Chapter Ten

Ezio stepped into the Vault and was greeted by a glowing woman with her dark hair tucked under an elegant headdress. The fight with Rodrigo Borgia had been difficult and, for a moment, the Italian Assassin thought that perhaps he had died and the white robed figure was there to lead him to the afterlife. The idea was quickly dismissed when he stepped forward, wounds aching and protesting. "Greetings prophet," the woman said, smiling at him. "It is good you have come. Let us see it. To give thanks." Her voice reverberated throughout the Vault and Ezio hesitated a moment before bringing out the Apple. He had come a long way for answers, and he hoped by doing what was asked of him that he would receive what he required.

The woman reached out and brushed a glimmering palm across the Apple before saying, "We must speak."

"Who are you?" Ezio questioned, the Apple glowing in his palm.

"Many names," she responded. "When I died, it was Minerva. Before that, Merva and Mera, and on and on. The others too. Juno, who was before called Uni, and Jupiter, who was before called Tinia."

"You are..." Ezio hesitated, the word coming to mind standing against the faith he'd been taught since he was a child. "...gods." Minerva laughed, the sound like tinkling bells that bounced off the ceiling in a honey sounding chorus.

"No, not gods," She replied. "We simply came before. Even when we walked the world, your kind struggled to understand our existence. We were more advanced in time. Your minds were not yet ready. Still not, maybe never." She paused for a moment, as if considering matters, then said "No matter. You may not comprehend us, but you will comprehend our warning. You must."

"None of what you are saying makes sense," Ezio protested.

"Our words are not meant for you," Minerva said, gaze suddenly cold.

"What are you talking about? There's no one else here!" Ezio was indignant. He had not come all this way to be ignored like some unruly child while Minerva spoke to someone who was not really there.

"Enough," Minerva spat. "I do not wish to speak with you, but through you. You are the prophet. You've played your part." She paused a moment to compose herself before saying, "You anchor him, but please be silent so that we may continue."

Ezio's mouth snapped shut and he stood there in furious silence as Minerva continued to speak. Her eyes seemed to see straight through him as she addressed someone named Desmond, speaking about a temple and a way to save people from fire. She ended with a warning to beware of the cross, which Ezio suspected was a reference to the Templar order, before blinking and smiling gently. "It is done," she said. "The message is delivered. We are gone from this world, all of us. We can do no more. The rest is up to you, Desmond."

She began to fade away and Ezio protested, calling "What? Who is Desmond? I don't understand. Please wait, I have so many questions."

Then he too began to fade away as Desmond said, "What the fuck?" His voice echoed in the loading room of the animus for a moment before Rebecca ejected him. She and Shaun were scrambling to pack up their supplies as Desmond sat up slowly, wondering what Minerva had meant when she had said that she and her kind were gone from the Earth. It was obviously a lie, along with the rest of the mysterious garbage she had spouted while he was a captive audience, but certain aspects of it rang true. Did she perhaps mean that she and her kind could no longer take physical form? Luna had been able to touch him when they'd first met, but she had appeared unsubstantial, like Minerva had. It had been as if she were some kind of specter lingering between life and death, only able to appear for a short time.

Minerva's little piece about the world being bathed in flames was not a lie either. The Apple had shown him what was to come should their plan fail. Solar flares would cook the Earth, and the only option available to them would then be to free Juno. "Desmond!" Lucy's voice snapped and he shook his head once, rising. She nodded at him and then turned to the others. "Alright Shaun, I need you and Rebecca to get everything in here packed up and loaded into the truck. Desmond and I will deal with the Templars."

"They're here?" he questioned, just to be sure.

"It was only a matter of time before they discovered us," Shaun answered, packing his research away as quickly as he could. "To be honest, I'm surprised it took them as long as it did."

"Let's go," Lucy urged, already hurrying across the room, and Desmond jogged to catch up with her.

"What's the plan after this?" he questioned as they hurried down to the main floor. "Where are we heading?"

"There's another safe house," she replied. "One you'll recognize when we get there."

"And the Pieces?"

"Slowly coming into our hands." She turned and gave him a quick smile. "Everything is going according to plan."

"For now," Desmond replied darkly as they caught sight of a truck up ahead.

"Mr. Miles," Vidic said, stepping out of the shadows with a smug smile. "This is an unexpectedly pleasant turn of events. And here I thought I'd have to waste more men on you. Kind of you to save me the trouble."

"What do you want, Vidic?" Desmond snapped, playing along even though he already knew the answer.

"For you to come home," Vidic replied in a mocking tone. "We miss you terribly, and there's so much work still to do."

"It's not happening, Warren," Lucy spoke up, hands curling into fists.

"You continue to disappoint in every conceivable way, Ms. Stillman," Vidic sneered. "I saved your life once, and this is how you repay me?"

"You saved her only so that you could use her knowledge to gain what you wanted," Desmond said, voice low. "You don't have the moral high ground here."

"And your kind does, Mr. Miles?" the old Templar questioned. "You Assassins have a creed which allows all atrocities. Our wish is simply to bring order to chaos. Would that be so terrible?"

"You speak of order, but the Templars crave control above all other things," Desmond retorted. "Slavery is not something to be desired, no matter what it achieves."

Vidic's dark eyes narrowed in anger but his voice remained level as he said, "A tired argument, Mr. Miles, and not one I wish to pursue now." The old man turned to the other Templars and ordered, "Take Mr. Miles alive, but Ms. Stillman is expendable."

That statement was worrisome. Had the Templars figured out that Lucy wasn't really on their side? If so, could they have discovered that Daniel was a traitor to their cause as well? That possibility was frightening, but Desmond didn't have time to dwell on it as he and Lucy engaged the Templars. There were only six of them, and despite how well trained they were, none of them were equal to Daniel, or even Ezio or Altair. For that matter, none of them were equal to Lucy's deadly grace, as she took out half of them on her own. Vidic clearly hadn't expected much in the way of resistance when he'd invaded their safe house. Perhaps he'd thought they would already be gone by the time he arrived.

Desmond dropped the last body to the ground, regretting that he had no time to lay some final blessing over the empty forms, and sprinted after a retreating Warren Vidic. He doubted he would be able to kill the Templar this early on, but he could try. "Looks like it's just you and me now," he called after the man, who climbed into the back of a van.

"Enjoy your victory, Mr. Miles, temporary as it is," the man said before pulling the back doors shut as the van sped away.

"I intend my victory to be more than fleeting," Desmond muttered, scowling after the retreating vehicle.

"Desmond, we have to go," Rebecca yelled and he turned, running for their own van.

"There you are," Shaun snapped, voice holding a note that sounded like relief. "Come on, help Lucy into the van." Desmond nodded, offering the blonde his hand as Shaun prodded, "Hurry, we need to go!"

Desmond climbed in after Lucy, pulling the door shut as Shaun gunned the engine. The two settled in the back with the animus and Rebecca, who was messing with the machine. "You okay?" Lucy questioned, resting a hand on his arm.

"Yeah," Desmond replied softly, giving her a genuine smile. "I'd be better if I killed Vidic, but I'm still free, so I'm good." She smiled back at him, patting his arm and then moving forward to climb into the passenger seat of the van.

"I've got the animus all hooked up, if you want to keep going through memories," Rebecca told him, eyeing her work with satisfaction.

"Sure," Desmond agreed, settling into the animus. While he didn't want to go crazier than he already was, the Apple hadn't given him all of the memories of his ancestors, probably because Luna hadn't wanted to make him too crazy to plan. He was grateful for that, but it didn't make going into the animus again any easier.

"Just a minute," Lucy called as Rebecca inserted the needle into Desmond's arm at a stoplight. "I have something I need to show Des."

"Sure thing, Lucy," Rebecca replied cheerfully. "Want to switch me places since you can run the animus?"

"That'd be great." Desmond couldn't see the grateful smile that Lucy shot at Rebecca, but he knew her just well enough to hear it in her voice, from all the years when he'd been too shy to meet her eyes. There was a bit of shuffling and a moment later Lucy was crouched next to him, holding out her phone. "From our mutual friend," she murmured and he nodded, leaning forward when she pushed back the screen so he could read Daniel's text.

_The enemy has managed to gain control of a piece, despite my best efforts. Don't know what it does yet, but will report if I find out. Two other pieces in our possession and locations passed on to you to be distributed. Be careful._

"That could be trouble," Desmond whispered and Lucy nodded.

"I know, but I can't see of a way for us to get the piece back from enemy control. Not without blowing our cover." Desmond frowned but he knew Lucy was right. Any plan he could come up with that would allow them to gain control of whatever Piece of Eden the Templars had managed to get their grubby little hands on would put Daniel's cover, and life, in jeopardy. Despite the sheer number of times the man had almost killed him, Desmond didn't want to do that to Daniel.

"It'll be okay," he said at last. "At least, I think it will be."

"Of course it will," Lucy replied. "Ready to go under?" Desmond nodded and settled back in his seat, allowing Lucy to pull the screen back down. The animus loading screen came up and the room around him turned white.

The world around him had just begun to load when the whole world around him glitched. "Lucy?" Desmond called uncertainly as a blonde man appeared in front of him.

"Don't bother calling for help," the man said. "Lucy can't get you out of this until I'm finished with you."

"Who are you?" Desmond questioned and the man smirked at him.

"You mean they haven't told you about me?" the man mocked. "What a pity. I would have thought they would have at least mentioned me at Abstergo after I painted the walls with my own blood."

"Oh," Desmond said, suddenly realizing who was standing in front of him. "You're Subject Sixte- I mean Clay, right?"

"At your service," came the sarcastic drawl, and Desmond took an involuntary step back at the tone. "I managed to store myself in the animus after I painted the walls with my own bodily fluids so I could warn you. One of your companions is going to betray you. Don't let her do to you what she did to me." Then Clay was gone and Lucy's concerned face was coming into view.

"Des, are you okay?" she asked, face pale and blue eyes wide.

"Y-Yeah," he croaked out, shaken by Clay's sudden appearance. He'd known the man was still around thanks to the knowledge the Apple had dumped into his head when he was thirteen, but he hadn't expected to see the other animus subject this soon.

"What happened?" Lucy questioned, voice wavering a little. "The animus just froze up on this end and I couldn't see or hear what was happening."

"It was Clay," Desmond told her and watched as all the color drained from her face. Sorrow filled her blue eyes, warring with hope. "He managed to upload his consciousness into the animus before he died and somehow jumped from Abstergo's system to ours, probably through the information you gave Rebecca."

"He probably thinks I betrayed him," Lucy whispered, looking incredibly guilty.

"You did what you could," Desmond replied, pushing back the screen and sitting up so he could rest his head against Lucy's. "And I know what would happen to Clay if we used this version of the plan. His blood is on my hands, not yours." Lucy reached out and squeezed his hand, giving him a weak smile.

"We'll share the blame," she murmured and he gave her a tired smile.

"I don't think he'll interfere if you try to put me under this time," he said, settling back in his seat for the third time. Lucy nodded and pulled the screen down again, typing away. This time Ezio's Italy loaded without any problems at all.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Monteriggioni was full of phantoms, so it was almost a relief when Desmond was plugged into the animus. At least then he didn't have to see people his ancestor had known wandering around him. Reaching the point in the memories where Ezio was in possession of an Apple had proved to be difficult. As Rebecca had theorized when they'd first tried to reach the correct memory, there was actually instances of layered memory in Desmond's DNA. In finding the keys to Altair's library, Ezio had actually witnessed some of Altair's memories. Altair had undoubtedly used the Apple to store his memories on the discs, but that he'd been able to figure out how to do so was impressive. Desmond doubted that he would ever be able to use the Pieces of Eden as effectively as Altair seemed to have done. That was fine. There was nothing in his plans that required that sort of mastery of any of Apples. It only required for the Shard to do its job.

Desmond wandered deeper into the tunnels, doing his best to ignore the phantoms around him. Lucy had mentioned that he might want to investigate this direction when he'd first unplugged for a break from the animus and he'd taken her suggestion, guessing that she'd left something down this passage that he needed to see. Despite the stone floor, his footsteps were silent, the sound not echoing off the roof. Golden light traced strange symbols across the wall when Desmond turned a corner, filling the hall with warm light. He hesitated a moment, frowning. Something about the light reminded him of when Minerva had appeared to Ezio, making him wary. Still, if Lucy had left something back here, he needed to retrieve it.

Waiting patiently at the end of the hall was a dark haired woman that Desmond knew well. Luna lifted her head and offered him a gentle smile, her body bathed in golden light. One of Lucy's burner cell phones was settled beside her, looking out of place next to the antiquity of Luna's clothing. He breathed out her name and her smile widened as she stood, stepping forward to pull him into a tight hug. "It is good to see you well," she said, stepping back but keeping her hands on his arms. "My sisters have been keeping a closer watch than usual on the Earth. I have been unable to keep track of your progress." She hesitated a moment before stepping back to settle on her perch again. "I was worried."

He flushed and glanced his feet, a smile breaking across his face at the sound of her soft laugh. "I'm glad I can amuse you," he told her lightly, glancing over to take in the warmth of Luna's easy smile.

"Some day I shall introduce you to my brother," she told him with a voice full of amusement. "The two of you would get along well."

"I look forward to meeting him," Desmond replied. "But I doubt you came here for some lighthearted banter."

"My worry can wait," Luna replied, carefully lifting the cell phone from its position next to her. "Lucy asked me to give you this when you arrived. She said Daniel wished to speak to you about something."

Desmond nodded and took the phone from her, dialing the single number that was saved there. It rang twice before Daniel picked up with a brisk utterance of, "Cross."

"It's good to hear your voice again," Desmond said, tone warm.

"And yours as well," Daniel replied dryly. "How are you?"

"As well as can be expected," Desmond replied, voice becoming bleak despite his best efforts.

"You're Bleeding." Daniel's voice held no room for protest. As a subject of the animus himself, Daniel would know far better than most the people around Desmond what the Bleeding Effect did to a man.

"Yes," Desmond admitted, even though it hadn't been a question.

"And you haven't told Lucy?"

"She would have mentioned it to you by now if I had." Desmond sighed and leaned heavily against one of the stone walls. "You know that." He heaved out a sigh at Daniel's laugh and asked, "What did you need?"

"The old man is rather upset that you continue to elude him," Daniel informed him. "That isn't so bad in and of itself, but Rikkin has him questioning the motives of anyone that has ever been in close contact with the Assassins, including myself." Desmond felt worry gnaw at his stomach with the news. If Daniel was being kept out of the loop with the Templars, it put their entire plan at risk. Rikkin was high enough in the Templar ranks to move the timing of the satellite launch. If the date was shifted in either direction, it could spell doom for the Earth.

"Is the launch still scheduled on the same date?"

"For the moment. I'm keeping an eye on all operations involving the satellite though."

"Keep me informed?" Desmond requested.

"Of course," was Daniel's reply. "And Desmond?"

"Yes?"

"Try not to do anything stupid."

Daniel hung up before Desmond could reply. He scowled at the phone before dismantling it and pulling out the chip, crushing it beneath his heel. Hopefully Templars and Assassins alike would be unable to trace the call. It was the best he could do. "Trouble," Luna questioned, expression worried.

"Maybe," Desmond admitted. "Its nothing we can't handle at the moment, but if Daniel's discovered then the plan's sunk." Luna's expression turned determined then, lavender eyes steely.

"Than we'll have to ensure that Daniel is not detected." She rose than, smoothing a hand across her skirt. "I'll take care of that."

"How?"

"You've seen my sister's message to Ezio, have you not?"

"I have," Desmond confirmed.

"Then you have noticed the unusual quality we both have when in comparison to the rest of the world around us," Luna said. "My family can no longer interact with the world the way we once did. Our bodies are gone, long burned away by the last flare of the sun, but we managed to store our consciousness away. This way of storage allows us not only to interact with the Pieces of Eden and the outside world for a time, but also with the technology that is so abundant these days. I can use that to our advantage."

"Without your sisters knowing?"

"Without my sisters knowing," Luna confirmed with a sly smile. "It will be fun." She stepped forward and pulled him into a hug once more, saying "Stay safe, Desmond." Then she was gone. Desmond lingered a moment longer, watching the golden light fade away before he too left, retreating back the way he had come.

"How was your exploring?" Rebecca questioned with a friendly grin when he rejoined the others.

"It went well," Desmond replied, giving the brunette a tentative smile in return.

"That's good. Baby isn't quite ready for you yet, but Lucy mentioned something about training before she wandered off earlier, if you're interested."

"Thanks," he said, heading off in the direction Rebecca had indicated.

As he made his way down the hall towards another, larger room he and Lucy had used for their mock training session before, he heard Rebecca say to Shaun, "So he's still not talking to you, huh?" Desmond didn't stick around to hear the Brit's barbed answer.

Lucy was performing her own version of shadow boxing in the center of the dimly lit room, moving with a grace that captivated Desmond every time he saw it. When he'd first met her, Lucy had been advanced in combat skills for a trainee of her age. She had been so far ahead, in fact, that she had managed to impress his father. For weeks Desmond had been compared to Lucy in disparaging terms. His father's despair over the fact that Desmond was not near the prodigy that Lucy Stillman was had been bearable only because of what he had learned from the Apple. He had taken the abuse during the day and plotted with Lucy for as long as they could keep focus at night. It had been a grueling schedule, not helped by the anxiety Desmond felt early on when he'd had to include Daniel in their plans, but all their work was paying off. For the first time in a long time, the Assassins were actually winning, although his father didn't know it.

"Rebecca said something about training?" Desmond called from the doorway, not wanting to startle her from a range where he could be attacked.

The blonde calmly finished her last motion before relaxing her posture and turning to smile at him. "I thought you might be getting a little stir crazy and this is the only option available since the Templars are so determined to drag you back to Abstergo, kicking and screaming."

"If you believe Shaun, then there wouldn't be much of a struggle when they found me," Desmond felt confidant enough to remark and Lucy snorted.

"Give him a break. He's never witnessed one of you and Daniel's more intense sparring sessions. He only saw the little show the two of you put on when the Templars finally tracked you down to make you an animus subject."

"That's because the general public of the Assassin and Templar Orders aren't supposed to think that I'm good for anything," Desmond replied with a bitter smile. "Not that it's all that difficult for my father to believe."

"Your father is an idiot," Lucy said bluntly. "We've been over this, Des." He gave her a rueful look in response and she sighed. "This conversation never goes anywhere." She stepped forward and pulled him into the room, smiling. "Come on, let's spar."

Desmond gently slipped free of Lucy's hold and shook his head. "I talked to Daniel," he murmured, keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard. "And Luna."

"So she did stick around long enough to talk to you," Lucy said. "Good."

"That part, yes," Desmond informed her. "But the rest wasn't. Our mutual friend said Rikkin's placing doubt on anyone who has had any close association with the Assassins."

"Has the launch been moved?"

"Not yet, and Luna thinks she can shift suspicion off our friend for the time being. She wasn't very specific as to how, but she said it had something to do with being able to manipulate technology."

"Let's hope that whatever she does works," Lucy said grimly and Desmond nodded.

"Hey you two," Rebecca's friendly voice called from the doorway and they both turned to look at her. "The animus is fixed up whenever Desmond's ready to go." Then she retreated, grinning as if she'd caught them kissing instead of simply whispering to one another.

"I should go," Desmond said with a heavy sigh. "We're almost finished with Ezio's memories and the sooner we find his Apple, the better." Lucy nodded and reached up to squeeze his shoulder before leading the way back into the main room. As Desmond slipped into Ezio's world, Luna was slipping into a different world of her own, though her journey was much less likely to strain her sanity.

The inside of a modern computer was a complex series of wires, numbers, and commands that passed by in a blur. Fortunately Luna's people had been more technologically advanced at the height of their power than the level that humans had currently achieved. They would catch up within the next decade or so, should they continue to advance at the rate they currently were, but until then Luna would enjoy being able to manipulate technology as she wished. She scanned the data around her, searching for the correct path and then zooming off, heading for the data from several computers belonging to low level Templars. In a company as big as Abstergo it wouldn't be too hard for her to find a Templar that had expression some kind of discontent over their current position. From there Luna could put her plan into action and, if the Templars were as thorough as she suspected them to be, then all suspicion would be focused on her victim. Ordinarily Luna would feel bad for framing someone, but Desmond's plan could not be allowed to fail.

It took her fifteen minutes to find a good target. One Jenna Weisman, a twenty-seven year old Templar, had addressed her displeasure for her low ranking position within Abstergo Industries. Weisman already had established a motive. Now all Luna had to do was make it look like the woman had been handing what information she could over to an unknown source. The Templars would likely assume that Weisman was dealing with the Assassins and would react accordingly. While Luna regretted that this would likely get the woman killed, she saw no other option. Determined to see this through, she set to work sending information about the few delicate Templar operations that Wiseman would be able to access to a dummy account attached to a fictional person's name.

For a human it would have likely taken several hours and a lot of muttering. It was much easier for Luna, partially because this technology was less advanced than the kind Minerva had been creating before the first solar flare and partially because she was inside the computer manipulating the code instead of doing it from the outside. Twenty minutes later she slid back out of the system, existing on earth long enough to shoot a satisfied smile at the Abstergo Industries building before slipping out of mortal existence. The pieces were all in place. Now all she could do was wait and hope that the chaos she had sowed gave Desmond enough time to complete his plan.


	13. Chapter Twelve

The Colosseum was bathed in moonlight and much less impressive than it should have been if you'd already had the experience once. "Deja vu," Desmond mumbled, staring out into the ruins of what had been a magnificent place in Ezio's day.

"I bet," Rebecca agreed, teeth flashing brilliant in the moonlight when she smiled at him.

"Let's go," Lucy said, tone business like. Desmond knew that she was worried about their plan falling apart in light of what he'd told her the day before. He nodded at her, feeling equally anxious about the precarious position their plan was currently in, and they stepped forward together, ready to go down in typical Assassin fashion.

"What about us?" Shaun called, called them both. "You might actually need a historian down there."

"Shaun's right," Lucy agreed after a moment of consideration. "That tunnel should lead under Capitoline Hill. I'll help them find another entrance." She hesitated a moment and then reached out to brush his cheek with her fingertips. "Be careful," she told him and then turned to lead Shaun and Rebecca in search of another entrance. Desmond jumped down into the Colosseum and began working his way across it. His free-running skills had been good enough to get by when he started with the animus but now they were excellent. He could feel the difference in every movement. He was confidant in each step, certain that he wasn't about to fall to his death at any moment, a feeling that he'd never before been able to leave behind. Despite all Daniel's reassurances that the man wouldn't let Desmond fall when they practiced, there had always been a lingering sense of anxiety settling in his stomach. Now that was gone, washed away by the easy confidence he'd felt through Altair and Ezio, neither one even entertaining the opportunity that they might fall.

"I think we've found an entrance," Lucy told Desmond when he was about halfway to the entrance he'd seen when Ezio had hidden his Apple. "We should be there shortly."

"Good," Desmond replied, making a jump that he wouldn't have ever attempted before he'd spent time as Ezio. The Italian was like some kind of monkey, clambering up and down building and leaping across vast empty spaces like it was nothing. While Desmond wouldn't ever attempt some of the stunts his ancestor had, being Ezio in the animus had made him more confidant in his ability to make jumps.

"How's it going?" Rebecca questioned a minute or so later as Desmond was forced to change directions slightly due to the construction.

"I'm getting close," he replied. "But this place is a mess. There's construction everywhere."

"Preserving historical sites is of great importance," Shaun cut in, voice sounding distinctly disapproving. "Countries that choose to do so are preserving a piece of their cultural heritage for future generations to see and learn from."

"I get that, Shaun," Desmond replied, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes mid jump. "But for our current purposes, the placement of the equipment they need for restoration is terribly inconvenient."

Rebecca let out a startled gasp at the statement and said, "Did I hear that right? Did Desmond actually snark back at Shaun?"

Desmond, struck by the same sudden realization as Rebecca, wobbled on his perch and almost fell before he could steady himself. Pausing where he was, with no regard for his current precarious position, he considered what he'd just done. Since he and Lucy had joined the other two Assassins, Desmond had struggled with even looking Shaun in the eye. In fact, Desmond thought this was the first time he'd talked to Shaun since his first attempt at being friendly. Why, then, had he been able to snark back at Shaun over the radio? Probably because he was used to giving as good as he got when he and Daniel were training.

Lucy laughed at Rebecca's shock, the light sound dancing over the radio waves. "He does that, occasionally," the blonde commented.

"It's good to know he isn't a doormat," Shaun spoke up dryly.

" _Shaun_ ," Rebecca and Lucy both exclaimed indignantly but Desmond blocked out the scolding that followed, focusing on getting to the correct entrance.

They fell silent in time for Desmond to land in front of the entrance to the secret passage. "I'm back on familiar ground," Desmond told the others, stepping forward.

Juno appeared in front of him in a blaze of light, far enough into his personal space that he stumbled back a couple steps. "We commit to this space the epilogue of our ending," she intoned solemnly, eyes seeming to look straight through him. "Let it be found by he who is deemed worthy. Let it guide him. Let it shape his path forward. Let it save the world we leave behind."

"I don't think I want anything to do with your path," Desmond replied darkly, forgetting for a moment about the ear piece he was wearing.

"Des?" Lucy questioned, sounding concerned, and he rushed to reassure her as he moved forward.

"It's okay Lucy. It's just one of Minerva's family members." While he wanted to tell Lucy that it was Juno, he knew he wasn't supposed to know who Juno was yet and he didn't want to ruin the whole plan just because of one slip.

Further down the path Juno appeared again, looking mildly disapproving, as if she didn't like being referred to as Minerva's sister. Desmond didn't care if she was upset. He had more important things to worry about, like making sure the Abstergo Eye was launched soon enough for the Shard to protect the Earth. "In the beginning we set out truths to parchment," Juno told him. "To stone. To the memory of men. These proved impermanent things. Cleansed by fire. Cleansed by famine. Cleansed by flood. All the world is innocent once more. Innocent and ignorant." Message delivered, she vanished again, leaving Desmond to scowl at the space she'd just been inhabiting. Every time he saw Juno, he liked her less and less.

The tunnel let out in what appeared to be a massive church, outside of which Rebecca, Lucy, and Shaun were waiting for him. "Took you long enough," Shaun commented when Desmond pushed the door open. Desmond ignored him, too busy taking in the architecture around him.

"What is this place?" he asked, glancing up towards the ceiling.

"Santa Maria Aracoeli," Shaun replied, voice losing some of its sharp edge. "See those columns along the aisles? They're lifted from Roman ruins. Now, supposedly, this church was built on top of the ancient Temple of Juno."

_It figured,_ Desmond decided. Juno had been involved in this whole mess from the start, so it was unsurprising that the church in which Ezio had hidden his Apple was on top of her temple.

"I like the ceiling," Rebecca commented, breaking Desmond free of his dark thoughts.

"You like the ceiling," Shaun said dryly. "Oh well, you are a fascinating traveling companion."

Desmond ignored their bickering, following a phantom of Ezio up the wall of the church behind the altar. From there, opening the door was a simple matter of activating a couple of switches which allowed a pedestal to rise from the ground near where his companions were staring. The worst part of the whole affair was trying to ignore Juno as she spilled out chatter focused on what her people had accomplished. Desmond knew how that story ended, and he didn't particularly care. The reign of Juno and her siblings over this world was finished, and he didn't intend to allow it to ever begin again.

Once the pedestal rose up Lucy called, "Desmond get down here!"

"On my way," he called back, glad that the church was empty at this time of night, and made his way down in a way that likely would have made Ezio proud, though it was a little risky for the part of him that sounded suspicious like Altair. Altair preferred to take risks during assassinations in different ways than Ezio did.

"Whatever this is, it doesn't do anything," Shaun said, stepping back from the pedestal when Desmond approached. "It's a dead end."

"I'm not so sure," Desmond replied, cautiously stepping forward and extending a hand over the pedestal. The ground underneath them shifted, transforming into a lift of some kind that slowly descended into an area below the church. It landed smoothly in what Desmond suspected was the actual Temple of Juno, a massive door blocking their way. "Do you think it speaks English?" Desmond questioned as they cautiously approached the door, each step careful since the room was filled with shadows.

"There's only one way to find out," Rebecca replied with a cheerful grin.

Desmond gave her a small smile in return and said hesitantly, "Seventy-two." There was a groan from within, as if something were protesting a sudden movement after years of stillness, and the door opened.

"Well what do you know?" Rebecca commented cheerfully. "Shaun was right."

"I'm always right," Shaun replied in a stuffy tone and Rebecca exchanged a sly grin with Lucy.

"About that dead end..." she said, deliberately trailing off.

"That never happened," came the response. "I was misquoted." Desmond barely bit down a snicker and stepped inside the room to the sound of Lucy and Rebecca's laughter.

"This is amazing," Lucy breathed as she stepped in behind him, taking in the intricately carved walls and the circular platform seemingly suspended in midair in the center of the room.

"Wow," Rebecca breathed in astonished agreement.

Shaun added to the mix with, "I'm actually impressed," which was as much of a compliment as the room was likely to get from him. Desmond turned his attention away from the spectacle, holding his hand carefully over another pedestal which brought out a series of platforms and switches. It also brought Juno back into the mix.

With an exasperated sigh, Desmond set about finding some way to activate a set of stairs, all while ignoring the hologram's ranting. It was more difficult than it had been upstairs in the church, but only because Juno was yelling some of what she was saying. It was as if she believed that increasing the volume would get Desmond to pay attention to her. She was horribly mistaken, but also horribly persistent, so Desmond had to live with moderate volume complaining once she realized that the increased volume was not helping her cause.

All his work resulted in a set of stairs the four could use to reach the center platform. Ezio's Apple rested on a pedestal in the center, like it was the prized jewel of someone's collection. Desmond eyed it warily from the top of the stairs, the others gathered behind him. Thanks to what Altair's Apple had shown him when he was young, Desmond knew exactly how this little encounter was supposed to play out. He hadn't thought much about this stage when he, Lucy, and Daniel were making plans to save the world since there had been other, more important aspects to consider, but now Desmond wished he had asked Luna how to resist Juno's control.

Lucy nudged him gently and he stepped forward, the Apple starting to glow as he approached. It cast symbols on the wall, and part of Desmond was aware that Shaun was talking about them as he turned uncertainly to Lucy. She was the only person, aside from Luna, who knew the full extent of what Altair's Apple had shown him. The blonde knew exactly what Juno wanted her fate to be, and that Desmond would be trying to kill her once he touched the Apple. Lucy smiled at him, blue eyes trusting, and nodded. Desmond nodded once, unable to muster a smile in return, and picked up the Apple.

The world around him went still, Shaun cutting off mid-sentence as Rebecca froze in the middle of turning to see everything around her. Juno appeared in front of Desmond, blocking his view of Lucy, her lips curled into a malicious smile. "Your DNA communes with the Apple," she breathed, eyes lighting up with triumph. "You have activated it."

"Let me go," Desmond retorted, glaring furiously up at her.

Juno ignored him, circling around his trapped body instead, like a puppet master inspecting once of her tools. "On the seventy-second day before the morning of awakening. You, birthed from our loins and the loins of our enemies, the end and the beginning who we abhor. The final journey commences. There is one who would accompany you through the gate. She lies not within our sight. The cross darkens the horizon." Her words were scattered, as if she could not organize her thoughts before they spilled out of her mouth, but Desmond was more concerned with the fact that she was directing him towards Lucy, hidden blade outstretched.

_No! He wouldn't do this. He couldn't._ "Stop, let me go," Desmond demanded and Juno scowled at him.

"You know very little. We must guide you. Cease your struggle."

"No," Desmond protested, eyes widening in horror as his arm stretched out to stab Lucy. Then, abruptly, he froze.

"Are you so threatened by one human girl that you intend to kill her by trickery?" a voice inquired. A woman stepped into view wearing a deep green tunic and brown leggings, worn hunting boots coming to a stop at her calves. A bow made of light colored wood was strapped to her back, along with a quiver filled with arrows. Her brown hair was pulled into a tight braid that rested along her shoulder and her eyes were the color of the night sky. Her skin was darker than any of her sisters, but the golden glow around her made it obvious that she was kin to Minerva, Juno, and Luna.

"Do not meddle in things that are above you, Diana," Juno snarled, losing what composure she had left in the face of this interruption.

Diana's countenance darkened and she folded muscled arms over her chest. "I was asked to mediate over this affair between yourself and Minerva, and so I shall," she intoned in a voice like thunder. "Let the boy go. He must be allowed to make his own decisions, according to the agreement the two of you created." Juno looked as if she wanted to protest, but Diana reached out a hand and wrapped it around the slighter woman's bicep. There was a blaze of golden light and when Desmond finally blinked to clear the spots from his eyes, his body his own again, Juno and Diana were gone.

The room around Desmond was still frozen, but that suited his purposes. Retracting his hidden blade, Desmond reached out a careful hand and rested it on Lucy's shoulder, the Apple glowing warmly in his other palm. The blonde came alive, lips parting in a startled gasp when she realized how close he was to her. Then she flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "We're okay," she murmured against his shoulder, letting out a choked sounding sob, and Desmond hugged her back, clinging to the knowledge that she was still alive. After a moment she pulled back, given him a watery smile. "I'm so glad that you didn't have to kill me."

"Me too," Desmond agreed, knowing it was a weak response but also knowing that she would understand the sentiment behind it.

"It's time for the coma then," Lucy said with a sigh, removing a small, capped, needle from her pocket.

"Yes," Desmond replied solemnly. "Just for a little while. I need to get through the rest of Ezio's memories so I can hear his message to me, and I won't be able to do that if I'm awake. My father will be joining us soon, and he'll want to move directly to Connor."

"I know," Lucy told him. "That doesn't mean I like it though."

"Everything will be fine," Desmond reassured her, pulling her into another hug for a moment. "You and Daniel have everything under control."

"I'm not sure any of us have anything under control," Lucy replied, but she was already uncapping the needle as she stepped forward to inject him. Just before the world faded away to black, Desmond released the Apple, allowing it to roll away and for time around them to restart.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Desmond Miles was a moron. Clay had only known the guy for what was probably an hour and he already had figured out that much. After all, you had to be an idiot to trust a person who was obviously a Templar agent. Desmond had blindly given the blonde his trust and it had left him in a coma while the Assassins scrambled to figure out what exactly had happened when their hapless novice had grabbed Ezio's Apple. The situation wasn't exactly great for Clay either, since he had the previously mentioned novice wandering around Animus Island and muttering something about trying to find the correct memory. Clay knew that the animus drove people crazy, but he hadn't expected Desmond to be this far gone.

"Hey, beans for brains," Clay called as he trailed irritably after the guy. "Are you done wandering around raving like a lunatic yet?"

"I'm not wandering around raving like a lunatic," Desmond replied, cringing a little when he parroted Clay's description.

"That's what it looks like you're doing," Clay retorted, rolling his eyes and then flickering through the data stream to appear right in front of his unfortunate animus successor. Desmond startled, eyes going wide and wild for a moment before he managed to get himself under control. Clay watched the entire process without surprise. While he hadn't known Bill Miles long, it had quickly become obvious that the man accepted nothing less than complete obedience. Clay had seriously doubted that Bill was any better in his personal life, doubt reinforced by Liliana Miles leaving permanently for Spain years ago. Watching Desmond was confirmation of something worse than Clay had expected.

Clay Kaczmarek had faced a form of abuse in his own life, through his father, Harold's, near constant neglect. His mother, Cynthia, had loved him dearly but her work kept her traveling. This meant that, more often than not, Clay had been left alone with his father, who hadn't ever been sure he wanted a child. The neglect had led to a series of therapists by the time he was in eight grade, lasting until he'd joined the Assassin Brotherhood. Clay's issues had been centered on rarely gaining any attention and never really feeling wanted, not from the fear of being hit for doing something wrong. It looked like Desmond's came from the second strain, which made Clay like Bill Miles even less than he had before.

That wasn't to say that he hadn't liked the man initially. Bill Miles was perfectly likable, if you didn't challenge his control. Once someone challenged his authority, Bill became less like the pleasant guy down the street who dropped everything to help with your barbecue and more like some sort of drill sargent who had been sent directly from the depths of Hell to turn you into a good soldier. Clay had never really been much of a good soldier, so he and Bill had gotten off on the wrong foot pretty quickly. That was one of the reasons he'd been grateful for the undercover assignment in Abstergo. It got him away from Bill's disapproving glares every time Clay did something the older man didn't approve of.

"Your father's more of an asshole than I thought he was," Clay commented, stepping back. Desmond paled and glanced upwards, as if expecting to hear Bill's voice snarling down at him. The worry wasn't exactly unfounded. They had heard Bill speaking to someone else earlier, when Desmond had just come to inside the animus, so it was logical to assume that the people outside the animus could hear those trapped inside. "Don't worry," Clay drawled. "No one can hear us in here. Otherwise your little Assassin friends would have known that I was still hanging around."

"T-That's, uh, that's good to know," Desmond stuttered, not looking entirely convinced. He backed up a couple steps and then turned on his heel, pacing hesitantly towards the memories. Clay trailed after him, genuinely curious. Desmond seemed to be staring intently at each memory stream before moving on to the next one, almost as if he knew what he was looking for. That didn't make any sense. Desmond Miles was in a coma because of grabbing the Apple at Lucy's prodding. The guy shouldn't have any idea of what he was searching for.

"Did the Apple show you something?" Clay questioned but Desmond ignored him, mouth set into a determined line. Clay scowled and reached over the snap his fingers in front of Desmond's face, making the younger man flinch. "What are you doing?" he questioned, trying not to feel too bad about startling Desmond.

"Looking for a memory," Desmond replied, not meeting his eyes.

"And you know what memory you're looking for?" Clay prodded in an exasperated tone.

"Yes." Desmond's tone went sharp and he stalked on to the next memory, leaving Clay frozen in surprise. He hadn't thought the younger man had it in him to snap. Apparently he'd been wrong. That was surprisingly reassuring. The world might actually survive what was coming if Desmond had enough strength left to stand up for himself and make his own decisions.

"Suit yourself," Clay drawled, settling comfortably on the beach and watching the waves occasionally wash up against the sand. He waited patiently as Desmond searched through the memories available to him, frustration growing on his face. The frustration quickly morphed into despair, the younger man sinking to the ground and standing despondently out towards the foggy looking ocean. "Having trouble?" Clay questioned, which wasn't the nicest thing he could have said, but nice wasn't exactly in his vocabulary. Desmond ignored the comment, leaning forward to rest his head against his knees. "You're giving up, just like that?" Clay prodded. "The world is doomed." Desmond mumbled something that Clay couldn't hear. Clay rolled his eyes skyward in exasperation and said, "Pardon me?"

"The world's already saved," Desmond repeated, lifting his head up long enough for Clay to actually understand what was being said.

"Really?" Clay challenged. "Did Lucy tell you that?"

Desmond lifted his head to stare tiredly at the older man. "Lucy isn't a Templar, and she isn't the reason why I know the world isn't going to end," he said, tone dull and tired.

"You think Lucy isn't a Templar? Open your eyes. She left me in Abstergo to die and she would have done the same to you if you hadn't had memories that the Templars want," Clay sneered.

"I'm sorry about that," Desmond snapped back, voice wavering a little. "But there wasn't another option. I needed Lucy to be above suspicion so she could get me out." Clay watched, confused, as Desmond pressed his head against his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs, shoulders tense.

"What are you talking about?" Clay questioned after a moment. Then what Desmond had said sunk in. "Wait a minute. Did you just say it was your fault that I never got out of Abstergo."

"Y-Yeah," Desmond replied, voice wavering miserably. His shoulders rose defensively up around his ears as Clay waited impatiently for explanation that was sure to follow. Bill Miles was Desmond's father, and Bill would have had some kind of explanation for why Clay had been left to die that would have absolved the man of all guilt. Clay was sure that Desmond would be the same way.

Minutes drifted by and no explanation came. Desmond just sat there, hunched over like some kind of kicked puppy. Clay frowned at that and turned his gaze towards the ocean. He felt betrayed by Desmond instead of Lucy now, but it was hard to hate the guy, especially when he looked like he expected Clay to start screaming at him at any minute. "Why?" he asked at last and Desmond curled in on himself further.

"I couldn't get you out," He said after a minute, lifting his head up to rest it on his knees. "It was just me and Lucy and Da-" Desmond cut himself off at the beginning of another name, knuckles turning white suddenly with the force of his grip on his legs. Clay watched cautiously, trying to decided it he needed to stop the younger man from hurting himself, but after a moment his grip relaxed. "I couldn't make a rescue attempt. I didn't have the resources so I just had to let you die." There was a pause and then Desmond said in a low, sad voice, "I shouldn't make excuses."

Clay didn't know what to do. Desmond just looked so horribly guilty about the whole situation, but Clay didn't do sympathy. In fact, he didn't exact cope well with the full range of human emotion, something that his therapist hadn't been all that successful in helping him with. "You said you were looking for a memory, right?" he questioned, standing abruptly and startling the younger man.

"Y-Yeah," Desmond replied cautiously.

"Well the one you're looking for obviously isn't here, but if you can find one of its predecessors you can probably work your way through it to get to the one you're attempting to find," Clay pointed out in a rush. Honestly, he just needed Desmond gone for a while. He needed some time on his own to work out what he was feeling, and puzzle over everything Desmond had inadvertently told him.

"That could work," Desmond speculated, standing slowly and retreating towards the memories again. Clay watched him and breathed out a soft sigh of relief when his successor in the animus vanished.

Desmond had implied that he'd put some kind of plan in place. He had also implied that there was a limited number of people and resources. That meant one of two things. The first option was that Bill was purposefully setting his son, and those assigned under him, up for failure and death at the hands of the Templars. That was a particularly cruel set up, but not beyond the Mentor. Especially not if Bill thought he could gain something valuable from the entire affair. If that was true, then it left Clay thoroughly disgusted with the Mentor. The other option was that Desmond was working independently of Bill. That meant that the younger man knew something that the Mentor did not. That possibility was intriguing.

Clay knew that Desmond had lived solely inside a compound known only as the Farm until he escaped at the age of sixteen. How could he have gotten information that the great and powerful Bill Miles couldn't get his hands on? It didn't make any sense. Clay sighed, acknowledging that he was going to need to persuade Desmond to tell him the full story. Unfortunately that meant he needed to wait until Desmond got back. He sank down in the sand to wait, trying not to pay attention to the smoothness of the sand. He'd created, for lack of a better term, this island but quickly discovered that the internal memory stream of the animus couldn't replicate reality. While the machine itself could make a person's senses give off the illusion of living their ancestor's life, those perceptions seemed to be partially based off already existing physical senses. Technically Clay had no physical senses for the animus to draw on, so the island had come out wrong.

Waiting in silence, without even the peaceful sound of ocean waves lapping against the shore since the animus couldn't figure out how to produce that either, was horrible, but Clay had grown used to it. It wasn't as if he could do much besides waiting while trapped in the animus anyway. It was a dismal existence, but he'd thought it was better than being trapped in Abstergo forever when he'd come up with the plan that had landed him here. Desmond reappeared some time later, crashing to the ground like he'd been dropped out of the sky. The younger man muttered something in Italian too low for Clay to hear and then sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Having any luck?" Clay questioned.

"Some," Desmond replied. "Though not as much as I would have liked." He paused, trying to stand before his legs gave out and sent him crashing back down. "I have to go back."

"Take a moment," Clay told him sharply. "Inside the animus it is more difficult to separate yourselves from your ancestors. There's no physical difference when you come out of a memory and end up here." Desmond nodded, relaxing back into the sand. "Besides, I have a question for you."

"I suppose I owe you an answer." Desmond turned tired golden eyes towards the older man. "What do you want to know?"

"Your words implied some sort of plan is in place," Clay said. "Does your father know about it?"

"No." Desmond looked down at the false sand and let out a wavering breath. "He doesn't."

"Okay," Clay accepted. "Who does know about it?"

"Myself, Lucy Stillman..." Desmond trailed off, hesitating.

" _And,_ " Clay prodded impatiently.

"Daniel Cross."

"Cross?" Clay bellowed, scrambling to his feet and grabbing Desmond by the front of his shirt. "The traitor knows about this? Are you an idiot Miles?"

"He won't kill us," Desmond protested, a hand coming up to wrap tightly around Clay's wrist. "Or at least not me."

"You are an idiot," Clay sneered, shaking the younger man a little. "He's just waiting for the right moment to strike and hand over your whole plan to the Templars."

"After the Templars who threw him aside like garbage after he'd accomplished what they needed from him?" Desmond replied. "Not a chance." When Clay raised a skeptical eyebrow, Desmond's expression seemed to crumple. He broke Clay's grip and stepped away, turning his back and headed for one of the memories lingering along the edge of the island. Just before he stepped through Clay heard him mutter, "Why does no one ever believe in me?"


	15. Chapter Fourteen

After speaking to Clay, slipping back into his role as Ezio's silent, helpless shadow was a relief. Desmond shadowed the man into Altair's Library in the depths of Masyaf, hoping the memory would erase the sting of the older Assassin's words. Clay doubted him, just as everyone else did. It was a miracle that Lucy and Daniel had managed to trust his plan with their lives. He blew out a shaking breath and felt his form flicker. Desmond forced himself to focus, knowing that the sooner he finished this memory, the sooner he could wake. He had to be nearing the time limit he'd given Lucy, and she was under orders to wake him regardless of what point he'd reached. The plan could afford no further than that.

Ezio stepped forward, pausing in front of Altair's Apple. Desmond found himself wonder how Luna had ensured he would received that particular Piece of Eden. He knew it was the same one, simply from the symbols that curved across its surface, but he didn't understand how it had reached the Farm. Maybe some day, when this entire mess was over, he would have time to asked Luna about it.

"Another artifact?" Ezio questioned, reaching out and then drawing it back. "No. You will stay here. I have seen enough for one lifetime." He brushed back his blue hood, revealing grey streaks through his dark hair. Desmond felt a pang of sadness run through him at the sight. When he had been plugged into animus outside of a coma, he had been Ezio. Now, trapped inside of it, he was nothing more than a shadow following a much older man around. Having lived as Ezio for a time, it felt painfully like watching himself die.

Desmond glanced away and, in that moment, the Apple flared to life. Gold twined around Desmond's arms and he gasped, the noise drawing Ezio's attention towards him. "Desmond?" the Italian assassin questioned, looking directly at him. Desmond found himself backing up a nervous step, taken off guard. His ancestor was able to see him. How was that possible?

Ezio stepped forward, reaching out a hand to rest it lightly on Desmond's shoulder, making him flinch. "I have heard your name once before, Desmond, a long time ago," Ezio told him. "And now it lingers in my mind, like an image from an old dream. I do not know where you are, or by what means you can hear me, but I know you are listening." When Desmond stepped back, out of reach, Ezio smiled sadly before removing his hidden blades and sword, carefully setting them aside.

"I have lived my life as best I could," the Italian continued, directing his words towards the younger man. "Not knowing its purpose, but drawn forward like a moth to a distant moon. And here, at last, I discover a strange truth. That I am only a conduit for a message that eludes my understanding. Who are we, who have been so blessed to share our stories like this? To speak across centuries? Maybe you will answer all the questions I have asked. Maybe you will be the one to make all this suffering worth something in the end."

"Me?" Desmond questioned, shaking his head ruefully. "Don't pin your hopes on me. I'm nobody." He'd been able to forget that fact for a while, with Lucy and Daniel being nice enough to pretend that he was important, but Clay had been a good reminder, especially considering that his father would be there when he woke up. It would do for him to have any ideas about his worth when dealing with his father.

The silence following that statement made his stomach twist, and Desmond tentatively turned his gaze upward. Ezio's lips were pulled down into a frown but his eyes didn't hold anger. Instead they held a strange combination of sadness and pity. Desmond didn't understand the look, but it made him uncomfortable. He glanced back down at his shoes, left out a soft sigh of relief as the golden light wrapped around him began to dissipate. Ezio lunged forward, as if to stop Desmond from vanished, and the younger man cringed back automatically. Before he could see the Italian's reaction, he found himself standing in what appeared to be some sort of marble temple. A man Desmond didn't recognize, dressed all in gold with a long, white beard, was standing before him.

"Do you hear me cipher?" the man questioned. "Can you see me?"

Desmond wanted to scream. His encounter with his Italian ancestor had shaken him, so the last thing he wanted to do was have a conversation with one of Luna's manipulative relatives. Unfortunately he didn't look like he was going to get much of a choice. "Ah, there you are," the man said, smiling at Desmond. "Good. A strange place, this nexus of time. I am not used to the...calculations. That has always been Minerva's domain." He paused and then nodded, as if to himself. "I see you still have many questions. Who were we? What became of us? What do we desire of you? You will have your answers. Only listen and I will tell you how."

The solar system appeared around them but Desmond wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings. He didn't want to hear whatever this projection wanted to tell him and he didn't need answers. Thanks to Luna, and Altair's Apple, he already knew exactly what they wanted from him. He didn't need an explanation. He needed to get out of the animus and finish saving the world. "No," he said coldly and the man, who had been in the middle of some elaborate explanation, jerked to a stop.

"I beg your pardon," he said after a moment, eyes narrowed menacingly.

"I said, no," Desmond repeated, proud that his voice didn't waver. "The only thing I want is for you and your kind to leave me alone."

"You insolent whelp," the man hissed, looming over Desmond and blazing with light. "My sisters are I are allowing you to do something useful in your life for once, and you want to push the chance aside." Desmond's stomach twisted anxiously at the raw fury in the man's tone but he suddenly had nowhere to run. The room had shrank down so three walls were cornering Desmond and the man in front of him was blocking the only exit. With no chance to escape, Desmond was forced to stand and fight.

"M-Maybe you chose the wrong human," he replied, voice only stuttering a little. "Not all of us want to be heroes."

"You have no other choice," the man replied, leaning closer and making Desmond cringe back into the wall behind him. "You will do as we tell you or your world will end." The light around him blazed brighter for a moment before he seemed to gain control of himself. The room expanded once more and the stars returned to shimmer around them.

"Before the end, and after," the man continued in a calmer tone. "We sought to save the world. We built vaults within which to work, each dedicated to a different method of salvation. They were placed underground to avoid the war, which raged above, and also as a precaution, should we fail in our efforts. Each vault's knowledge was transmitted into a single place." The scenery around them changed to that of the temple that Desmond didn't recognize. Minerva and Juno appeared on either side of the man, increasing the blaze of gold light that the young assassin had been staring through to focus nervously on the projection of the man.

"It was our duty, mine, Minerva's, and Juno's, to sort and sample all that was collected," the man continued. "We chose those solutions which held the most promise and devoted ourselves to testing their merits. Six we tried in succession, each more encouraging than the last, but none worked. And then the world ended."

There was a blaze of fire and Desmond let out a frightened cry, lifting a hand to shield his face as he was suddenly surrounded by people screaming in panic just before they died. "The Earth shook for days," the man narrated. "The fires burned for weeks and when the ash had settled, less than ten thousand of your kind still lived, and far fewer than ours. We carried on together, to rebuild. To renew." Now the man's voice took on new urgency as he continued to speak. "Listen, you must go there. To the place where we labored...labored and lost. Take my words. Pass them from your head into your hands. That is how you will open the way, but be warned. Much still remains in flux and I do not know how things will end, either in my time or yours."

The images around Desmond began to fade away, and the last thing he saw was the man staring directly at him before he too, was gone. Desmond was spit out on the island in the animus, but his surroundings were blurry and out of focus. Clay was standing across him, the only clear object in a dissolving world. "I'm sorry," the older assassin said, lunging forward to grab Desmond's shoulders and ignoring his flinch. "I should have let you unplug without ever subjecting you to my idiocy again but I..." Clay hesitated a moment and Desmond felt something pulling at him, trying to eject him. He ignored it for the moment, waiting for Clay to finish. "Look, I'd try to apologize but I'd just mess it up. Just...be careful."

Desmond nodded and Clay let go of his shoulder with what looked like a half smile on his face. "Good luck, Desmond," Clay called just before the island vanished and the sounds of the outside world grew much louder than they had been before.

"Look," Rebecca was gasping. "His vitals are stabilizing. He's...He's moving!"

"Desmond, can you hear me?" his father's voice questioned, tone stern, as Desmond pried his heavy eyelids open. "Son?"

"I know what we need to do," Desmond rasped as if he'd just had some sort of revelation. Then he gasped, startled, as Lucy lunged past his father to wrap him up in a tight hug.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she murmured in his ear as he hugged her tentatively back.

"I would like to speak to my son, if you don't mind, Ms. Stillman," Desmond's father said, voice sharp. The expression on Lucy's face said she minded very much but Desmond gave her a single, tiny nod and she released him reluctantly, stepping aside.

William Miles hadn't changed much since Desmond had run away at sixteen. His hair had a little more grey to it than it had before and there were a few more wrinkles on his face, but otherwise he was still the figure that stepped out from the shadows in Desmond's nightmares. "You say you know our next step," William said, sounding not at all pleased about that. "What is it?"

"The world is going to end in fire on the twenty-first of December," Desmond replied, forcing himself not to duck his head and look at the floor. "There's a way to stop it, but to do so we have to go to a temple in Turin, New York."

"How do _you_ know any of this?" William demanded.

"Desmond has been having encounters with a group of people who claim to have existed before humans did," Lucy cut in, her tone disapproving. Rebecca, who'd slipped up front next to Shaun, who was driving, turned around to arch her eyes questioningly at Desmond, as if asking what was wrong with the blonde. Desmond quickly glanced away, not wanting to have that conversation with anyone. It had been hard enough to explain his relationship with his father to Lucy, and he still wasn't certain whether or not he could trust Rebecca.

"Lucy's right," he said, voice low. "While I was...inside the animus one of them came to speak to me. He told me that a solar flare will envelope the Earth in flame on December 21. It happened before to wipe the first civilization off the Earth and, while they managed to find a way to protect the planet, it came much too late to save them."

"Did they tell you exactly what was going to be in the temple that would save the planet?" his father questioned skeptically and this time Desmond did look down, shaking his head.

"N-No," he replied, voice cracking nervously. Lucy shifted subtly between William and Desmond, her look just daring the Mentor to doubt his son. Desmond was looking at the floor, so he didn't see his father actually look away from the blonde.

"Fine," his said briskly. "New York it is." Then he turned away from Desmond and Lucy, ordering, "Shaun, pull over the next chance you get so I can drive."

Whatever Shaun's reply was didn't reach Desmond's ears as Lucy crouched next to him and removed the needle from his arm. "I gave you the dosage to wake you up a day ago," she whispered, eyes worried. "You should have woken up within eight hours, but you didn't. I thought I'd killed you."

"One of Luna's siblings hijacked me while I was inside the animus," Desmond replied, voice just as low as hers. "It wasn't your fault."

"Daniel wouldn't have seen it that way," Lucy replied. "And neither would I. I promised you that you would be perfectly safe going under, and if you hadn't come out, I would have lied to you." She tried to move away but Desmond reached out to grab her arm.

"No, it wouldn't have been," he protested softly. "It would have been Juno's fault, and Minerva's and all their siblings that are trying to use me as a puppet, but not yours." Lucy nodded with a slim smile and he released her arm, feeling more tired than was reasonable considering that he had been in an induced coma for a while now.

"Get some rest," Lucy told him gently. "I have to notify our mutual friend that you came back to us in one piece." Desmond nodded, managing a tired smile for the blonde before his eyes drifted closed.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Turin, New York was surprisingly mild for the middle of December. Desmond had half expected a thick layer of snow on the ground, despite having lived in New York for close to a year before Abstergo had actually taken him. He knew that mid forties and white clouds drifting across the sun wasn't unusual, but that didn't stop per-conceived expectations from coming to the forefront of his mind. It was especially hard to shake them, considering that when he'd arrived in New York last February, they had still been receiving an abnormal amount of snow.

Lucy stepped out from the van right behind him, Rebecca checking on the animus inside to make sure it hadn't suffered from the travel. The front doors the the van opened, allowing Shaun and Desmond's father to step outside as well, joining the other Assassins in front of the cave Desmond had been shown by Luna's family. "Are you sure this is the right place?" Bill Miles questioned, voice sharp enough to make Desmond cringe.

"I'm sure," he replied, but his voice lacked any real strength. Desmond couldn't stand up to his father. He'd never been able to manage it, and he wasn't about to start now.

Bill let out what sounded like a put upon sigh but ordered, "Start unloading. We have work to do."

Lucy pulled Desmond towards some of their supply crates, leaning close to him when he leaned down to pick one up. "How much time do you need?

Desmond hefted the crate and considered her question as he cautiously approached the entrance to the cave. The memories the Apple had given him bubbled up in response to his calculations, making him stumble and jerk to a sudden stop. His eyes snapped closed as he struggled to control the flow of information. Sometimes, when he was trying to work out minute details on the plan, what he knew overwhelmed him, washing over him in a flood. Big picture pieces, like the fact that the world was going to get hit by a massive solar flare on December 21, were easy to handle, but the devil was in the details, and the details were overwhelming.

"You okay?" Rebecca's voice behind his right shoulder made him startle, muscles tensing as he spun to face her. "Sorry," the brunette apologized with an easy smile. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"N-No problem," Desmond replied, voice wavering a bit before he managed to get it under control. Rebecca grabbed a box of her own and Desmond found himself leading the way into the cave. The walls were covered in a mixture of Native American artwork and gaudy spray painted graffiti. Not far in, the cave simply stopped, a door blocking the way forward.

"So how do we get in there?" Rebecca questioned.

"The Apple," Desmond replied, certain, and Rebecca dumped her box carefully on the ground before heading back towards the van to fetch the artifact in question.

"Estimate?" Lucy pressed softly the instant Rebecca was out of hearing range.

"Two and a half weeks," Desmond replied with as much confidence as he could muster. Lucy nodded and put a little distance between them as Rebecca turned with the Apple of Eden, Shaun, and Desmond's father right on her heels.

"Let's go," William snapped impatiently and Desmond flinched a little, gently taking the Apple from Rebecca and turning towards what appeared to be the back wall of the cave. Because he was avoiding looking her in the eyes, instead directing his gaze over her shoulder when he took the artifact, he missed the reassuring gaze the brunette was giving him. Lucy didn't, and nodded at Rebecca as the Apple began to glow in Desmond's hand.

Desmond carefully inserted the artifact in a spherical, concave space in the back wall of the cave, moving a step back just in case something went wrong. "In another moment, down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again," Shaun quoted from somewhere behind him. Desmond's lips quirked up in a smile as he recognized Lewis Carol's [i]Alice in Wonderland[/i]. His mother, when she'd still been home, had read him part of the book every night before he went to sleep. He'd heard the story so many times that, by the time she'd finally left for good, he hadn't been able to even look at the book. Hearing the quote now was somehow comforting.

A door opened, rising up as if it were attached to some type of pulley, though Desmond could not hear any noise that might indicate what kind of mechanism was being used to lift it. He reached up to take back the Apple and then stepped through the door, forced to duck to get through. It had been made to accommodate someone closer to Lucy's size than his own height. The others followed, and they made their way in relative silence down a long and winding hallway until they reached what was obviously another door. The Apple continued to glow in Desmond's hand, the feeling it gave off vastly different from that of Altair's. The first Apple that he had ever held had felt of sand and heat and fire. Ezio's Apple was calmer in a way; its power more like the coolness of water and the gentle brush of passing fish.

The Apple fit in another spherical indent and the second door rose just like the first one hand. Desmond took possession of the Apple once more and entered a larger room with a long ramp leading towards the ground. "I think we're..." Desmond hesitated a moment, glancing into the darkness and activating his Eagle Vision to ensure the room was safe before sliding down and announcing, "Here."

He landed in front of a cube with designs swirling across it which appeared to be similar to the ones on the two Apples he had seen. Desmond handed the Apple to Lucy, who took it without question, and picked up the cube, glancing around the dimly lit room before his eyes fell on what looked like a bench with several open slots in it. He muscled the cube into what must have been some sort of power strip because the temple came to life with a low hum, a massive door rising up into the ceiling while welcoming blue light filled the cave. William, for once, was completely silent, and Desmond chanced a look at his father. The man who haunted his nightmares was staring around the temple with an odd mixture of awe and what appeared to be greed in his eyes. The look made Desmond turn away, looking to Lucy for reassurance.

"This is amazing," the blonde breathed, smiling widely at Desmond. He smiled back, the emotion behind it genuine, and took her hand when he offered it. "Come on, let's see what's in the back."

The two of them had barely taken more than a step forward before Juno appeared in front of Desmond, her form flashing and fizzling like she was struggling to remain visible. "The key," she gasped out, intense eyes fixed on Desmond's gold ones. "You must...find...the key." Then she vanished with an audible crackle.

"What was that?" Rebecca gasped, but Desmond didn't hear her. Instead his eyes were fixed on someone no one else could see.

The man was dressed in clothing that was more modern than anyone in Ezio's time, even late in the Italian's lifetime, but not modern enough to be modern day. He was looking directly at Desmond and asking, "Sir?" The rest of the world wavered and began to fall away. Desmond struggled to hold on to reality, but the past was too strong.

" _Lucy,_ " he managed to gasp before his knees buckled and he crumpled towards the ground.

Lucy struggled to hold Desmond upright, Rebecca sprinting across the short space between them to help her. The two women carefully lowered Desmond to the floor, Shaun hurrying over to help them as well. Desmond was murmuring something that the blonde couldn't understand under his breath and she reached up a hand to gently stroke through his hair. "Come on Des," she whispered, leaning down so her lips were close to his ear. "Come back to me." His response was a statement for which Lucy had no context, delivered in a British accent that, in her opinion, put Shaun's to shame. That accent coming from Desmond's mouth sent a shiver of unease down the blonde's back as she realized exactly what was going on.

"What's the problem?" William Miles barked and Lucy scowled up at him, anger quickly replacing fear when she saw how little concern the man was showing over the state of his son. Rather than being worried about Desmond's welfare, his attention was fixed on a possible issue that would set his personal, and private, plans back a few days.

"Your son is experiencing what's called the Bleeding Effect," she growled through gritted teeth. "If you took the time to read all the reports I faithfully sent you, then you'll know exactly what that is and what it can do to a person."

Bill scowled at her but Lucy refused to back down. Bill Miles was not the man that haunted [i]her[/i] nightmares and she refused to be afraid of him. After a moment he looked away, turning his gaze to Rebecca and ordering, "Put him in the Animus."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Rebecca questioned, gaze filled with concern as she turned to look down at Desmond. "Exposure to the Animus could make the episode worse instead of better."

"Who is the expert here? You or me?" Bill demanded.

"I would think that Rebecca is the expert here, or maybe me, since we've both personally worked on an Animus at one point of time or another," Lucy shot back, hand never ceasing its gentle stroking through Desmond's hair.

"Put him in the Animus," Bill thundered. " _Now!_ "

Lucy set her jaw and resisted the urge to snarl back at him for the moment. She disliked the idea of putting Desmond in the Animus but this Bleeding episode was getting worse instead of better. She knew, from her time working at Abstergo, that sometimes time inside the Animus could help a person distinguish between the ancestor they were witnessing and themselves. Two people that she had worked with specifically had claimed that synching up with their ancestor in the Animus while they were Bleeding helped. Supposedly it was because it was easier for them to tell exactly what time period they were in when they went through the desynchronization process. Adding that information to the fact that a woman, who Lucy suspected was Juno based on the descriptions of her that Desmond had given her, had appeared just before this episode had begun led the blonde to the conclusion the time in the Animus might help him. She just didn't like the idea.

Shaun and Lucy carefully settled Desmond in the animus while Rebecca made sure her Baby was set up and running properly. Within in a few minutes they were watching a man make his way above the stage of a theater while a play was going on. "Find out who that is," Bill demanded and Lucy's scowl deepened. Somehow, during her years in deep cover at Abstergo, had forgotten how furious Bill Miles managed to make her on a regular basis.

Shaun settled down on a chunk of stone, opening up his laptop to figure out what was going on as the man on screen settled behind someone in a theater chair. Lucy folded her arms over her chest and watched the assassination in silence. "He's going back to the loading screen," Rebecca announced, sounding relieved, but Lucy didn't hold on to hope. There was no guarantee that the Desmond stepping into the so-called "loading screen" of the Animus would be the actual Desmond. He had already gone through two of his ancestors, though he'd spent much more time as Ezio than he had as Altair, and this newest memory was of a new person. It was extremely likely that Desmond would come out of the Animus as anyone but Desmond.

"Desmond?" Rebecca questioned cautiously as they watched him appearing in the white space of the loading room.

When they received no answer Bill demanded, "Do you hear us?"

"Yeah," came the dazed sounding response. "What happened?"

"The temple triggered a Bleeding Effect," Bill replied in the tone that most people use when explaining things to small children. "You collapsed and entered a fugue state. I decided it would be best to put you back in the animus."

"Which was, naturally, the complete wrong thing to do," Lucy snapped, unable to hold her tongue. "It's amazing that you're even still Desmond."

"Ms. Stillman, if you don't mind," Bill snapped back. "I am trying to talk to my son."

That was the exact wrong thing for him to say. Bill Miles had never treated Desmond as a father should treat their child. For him to claim parentage now was not something the blonde could take. "Maybe I do mind," she hissed, stepping forward so there was nowhere Bill could look but her eyes if he didn't want to be seen backing down. "Let's make something clear right now. The only reason I'm here right now is because of your son and that is the only reason why I'll be sticking around, so do not presume to order me around ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Abundantly," Bill replied sourly before turning back to his son. Lucy knew that she had just burned any and all bridges with Bill but she didn't care. The man was ruthless and cold, and he had remained the Mentor of the Assassins only because there had been no better option. Now there was. Lucy would follow Desmond to Hell and back if necessary, and she doubted that she would be the only one when this entire affair was over. Bill Miles reign over the Assassins was over, he just didn't know it yet.

"The temple seemed to be communicating with you," Bill was telling Desmond. "I didn't want to risk severing the connection."

"Yeah, of course," was Desmond's dull reply. There was a moment of awkward silence, during which Rebecca and Shaun exchanged one of those glances that only they could understand, and then Desmond asked, "Lucy, you still there?"

"I'm still here," Lucy reassured him.

"I know what I'm looking for, what Juno was talking about. It's a key. I just don't know where it is."

"You'll find it," she told him confidently.

"Of course he will," Rebecca chimed in with an easy grin. "He rocks."

"Thanks, Rebecca," came the amused reply and Lucy smiled. It looked like Des and Becca were on their way to becoming friends. That was good. Des needed more friends.

"I'll take care of him," Becca said, smiling at Lucy when she noticed the blonde checking her phone. "You take care of what you need to."

"Thanks, Becca," Lucy said before turning her gaze to Desmond. "Stay safe Des, or I'll kick your ass."

"Yes ma'am," came the easy reply, and Lucy nodded once before turning and heading out of the room. She had contacts to call to make sure Des's plan succeeded.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

The wind moaned between tall pine and spruce trees, carrying large snowflakes with it to smack against any unprotected skin that a person might have left uncovered. Tucked in the fur lined traditional robe of an Assassin, Ansa Linnea Vertanen waited, sheltered by the thick trunk of an old tree. The cold wind attempted to tug loose strands of her blonde hair out from underneath her hood and slipped small snow crystals underneath her grey scarf to sting her cheeks. Her brown eyes narrowed, straining to see through the growing darkness, and she flexed her fingers inside her thick work gloves to keep up circulation. Her contact was late.

Ansa had been standing outside in the cold for the past hour, waiting for a contact who, according to the encoded message from Lucy Stillman, should have arrived a long time ago. She let out an impatient huff and folded her arms over her chest, muttering, _"Finally"_ when she saw a bulky figuring coming towards her. It was difficult to tell whether the newcomer was male or female because of the temperature. No one went out into the icy Finnish night without several layers protecting them. She narrowed her eyes, trying to determine who the jumpy Mentor's son had trusted enough to pass a message on to her. _That couldn't be..._ A low, furious growl built up in the blonde's chest as she realized exactly who was standing a few feet away from her.

"Daniel Cross," she hissed and the traitor smiled at her.

"The youngest Vertanen child," Cross practically purred back. "You've grown since I saw you last."

"Children tend to do that," Ansa sneered at the man.

The last time she'd seen Daniel Cross, she'd been a little girl surrounded by four overprotective older brothers. They'd still thought that Cross was a loyal member of the Assassin Brotherhood, and he'd been sent from the Mentor himself to assist the Finnish branch of the brotherhood with their task of obtaining an important artifact that the Russian's had stolen during World War II. The mission had been successful, though Cross and Ansa's oldest brother, Johan, had come back with cuts and bruises. Cross had remained in the Vertanen home for three more days, healing and allowing the heat that the successful mission had brought about to die down. He'd put up with Ansa pestering him about America and the brotherhood there, which had endeared him to her. It had also made his betrayal feel personal.

"What did you do with the Assassin I was supposed to be meeting with?" she demanded, barely resisting the urge to attack him. Daniel had been learned to fight when Ansa was still learning the basics of combat. Getting into a fight with Cross would likely end in her death, at least on an even playing field.

"Who said that you were meeting with an Assassin?" came the smug response.

Ansa gritted her teeth and tried to recall the exact wording of Ms. Stillman's email. If she was recalling it correctly, then the email had specified a location, time, and date for the meeting, but not who she was going to see. She'd only been informed that her temporary partner in crime was someone that Desmond Miles trusted, which was a rare honor for the person in question. Ansa might have only met Desmond once, the only week she'd spent in the United States, but it had been easy to tell that the jumpy boy didn't hand out trust like a doctor handed out lollipops to good little children who sat still for their vaccinations. That Desmond trusted the man who had betrayed the brotherhood, and who had been plotting to do so the entire time he'd been in the organization, was worrying.

"So how did you convince Desmond Miles to trust you?" Ansa growled, allowing her arms to fall loosely to her sides in preparation for combat. "What kind of lies did you feed him in order to make him let you in on this?"

"Do you really think so little of him?" Daniel questioned, and the response made Ansa's blood boil.

"No," she spat back. "But I don't think so highly of you that it would keep me from considering the possibility that you would prey upon a child's insecurities and fears when they were alone and able to make their own decisions for the first time in their life."

Cross was silent for a moment and it took all of Ansa's willpower just to punch him in the nose. She knew how to throw a good punch, and had from age eight when her brothers had taught her how in order to take down a bully on the playground. She'd broken the other kid's nose, something that neither of her parents had been very pleased about, but her brothers had practically thrown a party to commemorate the event. Ansa wasn't the afraid to do the same thing to Cross that she'd done to the playground bully.

"If it is any consolation to you, I did not seek out Desmond," the backstabbing former Assassin informed her. "He came to me."

"Why?" Ansa demanded, completely confused. Why would someone as shy and socially anxious as the Desmond Miles she'd known feel safe enough to approach someone like Daniel Cross? It didn't make sense.

"It has to do with a Piece of Eden," came the careful reply. The Finnish Assassin scowled, unhappy with the obtuse response, but Daniel lifted a hand to stall her next demand for answers. "I'll explain more when I'm certain I can trust you. For now, we need to focus on retrieving the Piece of Eden you've located."

"And I'm just supposed to trust you on this whole matter?" Ansa questioned scathingly.

"No," came the dry response and Cross retrieved a cell phone from his coat pocket, handing it over. "Speed dial number one," he informed her and she glared at him distrustfully before reaching out to take the cell phone. It took her a moment to hit the proper button with her heavy gloves, but she managed it and slipped the cell beneath her hood so she could lift it to her ear.

The phone rang twice before a sleepy female voice said, "What do you need, Daniel?"

"This isn't Cross," Ansa replied sourly. "He gave me this phone and told me to call the first speed dial."

"Ms. Vertanen?" the woman on the other end questioned, suddenly sounded more alert.

"Speaking," Ansa said, booted foot thumping once, impatiently, into the bark of the tree she'd been leaning on early.

"Desmond had told me that we might need someone to vouch for Daniel. I just didn't realize he meant me when I sent out that email," the woman muttered. "I'm Lucy Stillman, and I know this must seem like a horrible idea to you, but Des and I need you to work with Daniel."

"That's supposed to convince me to work with him?" Ansa questioned skeptically.

"No," came the warm reply. "This is."

Ansa frowned, hearing a bit of shuffling and then a low murmur before the phone was passed off to someone else. "Ansa?" Desmond Miles questioned in a bleary sounding voice.

"That would be me," Ansa replied brightly. "Mind telling me why I have a traitor to our sometimes glorious brotherhood as a work partner for this particular mission?"

Desmond's startled snickers made her grin. Making Desmond laugh, during the time that she'd met him, had been an impossible task so hearing him do so was a pleasant surprise. It was also a sign that Bill Miles hadn't managed to completely crush his spirits, which would ensure that Ansa wouldn't seriously try to kill the man the next time she saw him. She'd stick to maiming him, which was good because maiming the Mentor was a lot more forgivable than murdering him. Daniel Cross was the prime example of that case.

"Because he's the most mobile member of the crew right now," Desmond informed her once he gained control of himself. "And I'm not asking you to trust him. I'm asking you to trust _me_."

Ansa breathed out a sigh, unable to resist the pleading note in Desmond's voice. "Okay," she said. "Fine. We'll get the Piece of Eden without killing each other, but you owe me the full story of how you ended up working with Daniel Cross of all people."

"I'll fill you in when this mess is over," Desmond promised and she smiled.

"You'd better," she informed him and then hung up to the sound of his laughter, tossing the phone back to Cross.

"Satisfied?" Cross challenged, a smug grin on his face, and Ansa reminded herself that she couldn't toss one of her knives at his head. Desmond needed to pair of them to retrieve a Piece of Eden, and not in a way that involved her dropping Daniel Cross's dead body through a hole made in the roof of a church to startle members of the Templar cult.

"For now," she replied snidely. "Let's get moving. We have a ways to go before morning."

"And where exactly are we going?" Cross asked, catching up to her easily despite the speed she was stomping through the snow towards where she'd left her truck.

"Helsinki," she replied, giving him a wicked smile. "We're going to break into a church."

Cross snorted at her grand pronouncement. "Breaking into a church? That was what required my help?" Ansa gritted her teeth and yanked keys out of a pocket sewn on the inside of her robe, mashing down the button to unlock the truck. "I hope all Finnish Assassins aren't of your caliber. The Templars will sweep over your country like a flood if they are."

"Normally I wouldn't have problems breaking into a church, but this is different," she snarled, flinging open the driver's side door. "The Templars already know the location of this piece, they just can't get to it." Then she jumped in and slammed the door, not at all appeased when Daniel slipped silently into the passenger side.

The hour long drive to Helsinki was taken in silence, which Ansa was grateful for. She was still smarting from Cross's last jab at her capability, possibly because she'd been doubting her decision to ask for assistance. She was a fully trained Assassin and she'd gone on more than one mission for the brotherhood. She should be able to handle a few Templars on her own, but instead she'd been unwilling to take the risk and had asked for help. It was a fact that shamed her, and Cross had unknowingly stabbed right into the middle of it. She pulled into the dark, deserted streets of Helsinki at just after midnight and parked the truck down a dark alley.

"What church are we breaking into?" Cross asked, all business as he unbuckled his seat belt.

"Johanneksenkirkko," Ansa told him, her mother tongue slipping easily off her lips.

"My Finnish is a little rusty, but I swear you just said that we were breaking into St. John's Church," Cross replied.

"You're not wrong," Ansa said dryly. "The Templars have bunked there for the time being. The Piece of Eden itself is in a series of tunnels beneath the church but the Templars haven't figured out how to access the tunnels and they can't just tear the building apart. Because of its acoustics, the church is used for concerts as well as services, so they've been restricted to wandering the place, looking for secret passages. The acoustics are also what would make it difficult to do this subtly."

"Do you know how to get into the tunnels?"

"My great-grandmother did," Ansa replied. "I had to do some digging through her old diaries, but I found her coded notes about how to access and navigate the tunnels. I need your help with eliminating the Templars, not finding the piece."

"So how are we going in?" Cross asked with surprising patience.

Ansa grinned eagerly, bad mood forgotten in the face of what they were about to do. "We're going to walk in through the front door."

"I beg your pardon?" Cross questioned after a long pause.

"I said we're going to walk through the front doors," Ansa repeated impatiently, opening the truck's door and turning to step out into the cold night. She was stopped halfway out by Daniel Cross, who grabbed her by the back of her robe, yanking her back into the truck.

"I thought you said you wanted to do this subtly," he growled and she scowled at him over her shoulder.

"I've done my homework," Ansa spat. "There's no skylight to go through and the Templars guard the back doors. They can't seal off the front door because the local pastor, who is on good terms with the Templar Order, though not a Templar himself, insists that the doors be open for parishioners at any time."

"Fine," Cross sighed. "We'll walk through the front doors, but not in the middle of the night and not with you in those robes." Ansa scowled and tried to protest but he quickly clasped a hand over her mouth. "You called for help, so this mission is out of your hands. We're going to get that Piece of Eden, but we're doing it my way."


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Daniel Cross was going to have words with Lucy when this mission was over with. Or he would be, he actually survived today. He and Ansa were making their way down the snow dusted sidewalk towards St. John's Church, dressed like tourists. Convincing the Finnish assassin to leave behind her traditional robe had been like attempting to herd a house cat towards water, but in the end Daniel had threatened her into compliance. Now she walked next to him, tugging irritably on the fuchsia scarf he'd tossed at her when she'd changed into more tourist friendly clothing. "Why are we going through this facade?" she hissed at him as they approached the church right behind a group of excited sounding European tourists.

"Because this is the simplest way to get inside the church without attracting Templar attention," Daniel responded for what felt like the hundredth time, spitting out the words from between gritted teeth.

"I'm sure there are other ways we could have gone about this," came the sulky reply and Daniel wondered how upset Desmond would be if Daniel killed Lucy for doing this to him. This was not just a difficult mission, it was cruel and unusual punishment.

"We don't have time to come up with another way to do this," he snapped under his breath. "Now smile and pretend you haven't seen this church a hundred times before."

Ansa shot him a quick, sharp scowl before turning the face the Templar standing in the doorway, smiling eagerly. "Isn't it great?" she gushed, tucking her arm through Daniel's. "It looks just like in the picture in the travel brochure." Daniel made a noncommittal in response as they stepped past the Templar and into the church itself. "Oh, and it's even prettier on the inside," Ansa continued with a sunny grin. Her voice bounced off the ceiling and walls, echoing back to the Templar, who Daniel saw actually turn around to look at the blonde with wide eyes.

"If it looks just like the picture, why did we have to come all the way here to see it?" Daniel asked, putting the exasperation he was feeling at her acting into his voice.

"Because it's part of the adventure," Ansa replied, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Maybe I don't like adventures," Daniel challenged and the blonde actually visibly pouted.

"But you like me, don't you?" The whine in the blonde's voice had tourists turning their direction now.

"Of course, _honey_ ," Daniel replied with false sweetness and an old couple cooed as Ansa beamed brightly at him.

Daniel slipped an arm around her waist and the two moved deeper into the church, taking their time to study the ceiling and walls. They were both keeping an eye on the three Templars that were wandering around the church, acting as makeshift security. One of them remained near the door, but the other two were deeper into the sanctuary, making their way along the pews. "So where exactly is this Piece of Eden?" Daniel whispered in her ear, leaning close to keep up the facade of the two of them being a couple.

"According to what sources I could find, hidden under the altar," Ansa replied. "Apparently there's a tunnel hidden there that leads down to the artifact." She paused and then leaned close, lips almost touching his ear, and added, "It's going to be a little difficult to get to in broad daylight."

"Maybe," Daniel conceded. "But the Templars here are trying to keep a low profile. That means they aren't going to be able to try to kill us in broad daylight. Nighttime would be another story."

"Whatever you say," Ansa said with a roll of her eyes. "You're the boss."

Daniel bit down a snide response as the two moved forward, making their way down the aisle towards the altar. The Templars were keeping a close eye on them now, for the most part disregarding the old couples that were wandering around with their cameras. One of the tourists was fiddling with her camera, hopefully turning on her flash against the rules so that at least one of the Templars would have to act the part of security guards and stop her. "When that lady takes her picture, move to the altar," Daniel told her. "We're going to have a short window, but we could make it."

"Got it," Ansa replied grimly.

A moment later there was the flash of a camera, catching the attention of both Templars in the sanctuary. While they were occupied with explaining to an old lady why she could use her flash to take pictures within the church, Daniel and Ansa rushed up the stairs and ducked behind the altar. On the inside of the altar was several symbols. Ansa quickly shifted them and there was the sound of grinding stone as the area underneath the altar shifted slowly to reveal a staircase. " _Hey! Get away from there!_ " a voice bellowed but neither Ansa nor Daniel obeyed, slipping down the stairs.

The stone cover ground shut above them, plunging them both into complete darkness for a moment. They both froze until blue-green light began issuing in lines down the stairs, illuminating their path forward. Ansa hurried down the stairs, Daniel following warily on her heels. The Pieces of Eden that he and the rest of Lucy and Desmond's makeshift team of treasure hunters had uncovered had been surrounded by booby traps. Daniel had no doubt that this place would be the same. In contrast to his cautious approach, Ansa moved steadily forward, eyes fixed straight ahead. She only paused when the tunnel widened out and the floor abruptly vanished, leaving nothing but air behind.

The blonde folded her arms across her chest, scowling out into the darkness. "What now?" she asked, voice echoing off the ceiling.

"We look for a way to get across before the Templars figure out how to get down here," Daniel growled in response.

"Right," Ansa replied dryly. "That's incredibly helpful. Thank you _so much_ for your input."

"You're the one whose research we're following," Daniel pointed out, running a hand carefully over the wall nearest to him in the hope that there would be some kind of hidden button or lever that would help them move forward again.

"There was nothing in the information I uncovered about this," Ansa said sourly, crouching on the ledge to peer down into the darkness. "Do you have something you don't mind losing?"

"I didn't bring non-essentials," Daniel replied, tone frosty. Ansa let out a long suffering sigh and stood, turning to face him with arms stretched straight out from her sides.

"I guess I better hope my hunch is right," the Finnish assassin said.

Daniel's eyes widened and he lunged forward a second too late as Ansa dropped backwards, vanishing into the shadows. " _Fuck,_ " Daniel muttered, voice echoing off the ceiling and fading into the shadows below. His expletive was answered with half-hysterical laughter that issued from the depths.

"Take a leap of faith," Ansa called up to him.

"I'm not an assassin," Daniel hissed as if she was standing right next to him. Then he jumped.

It had been years since Daniel had taken his last true leap of faith. He'd set up a few for Desmond in the years between his escape from the Farm and his planned capture by Abstergo, but he hadn't undertaken one himself without knowing what lay at the bottom. Him plummeted into the darkness, flipping and landing in a crouch on solid, packed dirt. Ansa was standing a few feet away, blonde hair illuminated by the blue-green glow of stones set in the arch of a doorway. She had a pleased smirk fixed on her face and her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her cheap, bright colored winter jacket. "Nice leap," she said, turning and making her way towards the arch. Daniel reached out and grabbed the hood of her coat, jerking her to a stop, jaw clenching with anger. "What gives?" she asked, eyebrows arching.

"Next time tell me what you're thinking," he growled, shaking her a little.

"Fine." She folded her arms over her chest and arched her eyebrows at him. "Now are you going to let go of my hood so we can move forward?"

"I will," Daniel replied, tone clipped. "But I'm going first."

"Suit yourself."

Daniel released her hood and brushed past her with a low growl. Stones along the wall of the tunnel lit up as he moved forward, this time emitting a violet glow. The floor was packed dirt that muffled their footsteps and the air around them felt heavy with the silence. The tunnel gradually sloped further downwards until it came out at what appeared to be some kind of pond. Stones under the water glowed blue-green while the ones on a slim path across the water were glowing violet. Daniel paused at the edge of the platform, Ansa bumping into his shoulder. The platform looked safe enough and it looked like actual water flowing around the platform, but he knew better than to trust appearances.

He cautiously put a foot forward, breathing out only when it met solid ground. Then he strode forward, Ansa right on his heels. The violet stones began to glow brighter with each step that they took, illuminating them from the ground up. A teal colored platform rose up in the center of the water, sending small waves gently lapping against the sides of the path they were on. In the center of the platform was an Apple of Eden that was made out of silver lattice work. Daniel hesitated at the edge of the center platform and Ansa circled by him, a reverent look on her face. She reached out a trembling hand and then paused, scant millimeters from touching the ancient technology. Daniel barely resisted the urge to snap at her to just grab the Apple, folding his arms over his chest instead.

Ansa nibbled on her lower lip, eyes wide and, for the first time since Daniel had met her, truly anxious. Then she closed her hand around the Apple, removing it from its resting place. Instantly the platform lowered rapidly towards the water, leaving the pair of reluctant allies sprinting back towards the shore. A quick glance back showed that the platform had vanished from behind the now churning water and their path was quickly vanishing as well. " _Move!_ " he barked at the blonde, who stretched out her stride to cover more ground. Even with the increase in speed, the pair barely managed to make it back to the solid ground of the tunnel.

Pausing to gasp for breath once they were safe, Ansa started giggling hysterical, cheeks flushed. Daniel huffed out a breath and waited impatiently for the laughter to fade away, eager to finish up this job. He'd been out of easy driving of flying distance to reach Desmond for far too long now and the kid had a habit of running headlong into danger. Not on purpose, naturally, but Desmond got into an awful lot of trouble just on accident. It took a minute, but she composed herself and stood upright, tucking the Apple inside a pocket hidden in the interior of her coat. The two made the trek back the way they had come in silence, only pausing once the reached the chamber which they'd taken a leap of faith to reach.

"How are we going to get back up there?" Ansa asked, craning her neck to glance upwards.

"I don't think we go up," Daniel replied, brushing past her to step into the darkness that surrounded the wall off of which they had jumped. "I think we go through."

"Okay," came the skeptical reply. "But you go first." He arched his eyebrows at her in question and she grinned. "I'm not going to run head first into a wall I can't see just because someone else told me the wall might not be there."

"Your lack of faith is appalling," Daniel told her, stepping forward into the shadows.

"My faith is fine," her voice said, following him into the darkness. "I just don't trust you."

Just as Daniel thought, there was an opening in the wall. While there was no light to illuminate his wall, he could clearly feel the empty space before him as he made his cautious way forward. "There's an opening in the wall," he called back to the Finnish assassin. "I can't see where it's going, but I can feel fresh air flowing from further ahead."

"Good enough for me," Ansa called back and he heard her cautious footsteps make their way towards him. She ran straight into his back, bouncing off with a startled huff, and then said, "Keep talking so I don't break my nose on your shoulder."

"What am I supposed to talk about?" Daniel inquired sourly, moving forward again, and he could practically hear Ansa rolling her eyes in response.

"I don't know. Anything." When he remained silent she let out an exasperated sigh. "Talk about the weather."

"It's cold," he informed her flatly. "What is there to talk about?"

"Sure, it's cold," Ansa agreed. "But there are different degrees of cold."

"I'm not going to talk about the weather," Daniel informed her and she sighed.

"Fine. How about what you're planning to do when all this is over?"

"I fail to see how that information is any of your business," came the acidic reply.

"Okay," Ansa said, undaunted. "What about your love life?"

"How about we talk about what it takes to get you to shut up?"

Ansa snorted out a laugh. "I have brothers. It's going to take a lot more than your sour attitude to shut me up."

The breeze had grown strong enough to rustle Daniel's unzipped jacket and send Ansa's blonde hair floating up off her shoulders. The tunnel had lightened considerably as well, and was moving steeply upward, as if it were in a hurry to get rid of them. Daniel didn't have a problem with that. The sooner her got away from Ansa Vertanen, the better off his sanity would be. Also, the blonde would have a better chance of survival the further she was away from him. The two of them finished the rest of their hike in silence, coming out from underneath a heavy stone block at the back of the church. "So now what?" Ansa asked as Daniel hurried out of the churchyard and on to the snowy street. The sun was sinking low on the horizon, revealing that they'd been underground a lot longer than he'd initial suspected. That meant he'd lost an entire day in this endeavor, and if something had gone wrong then they would be almost out of time to come up with a solution.

"Now we call in," he replied grimly. "And hope that nothing went wrong while we were busy."


	19. Chapter Eighteen

He opened his eyes to see a dark haired woman leaning over him. "Desmond, are you okay?" she asked. He wanted to ask who Desmond was but she looked so concerned that he thought the better of it. "Desmond?" the woman asked and he realized that she thought he was Desmond. That was strange because his name was Connor-well Ratonhnhaké:ton, but no one he knew seemed to be able to pronounce that-and he didn't even know who this woman was or why she was dressed like a man. "Desmond?" the woman asked again, looking even more concerned. "It's Rebecca, remember?"

A new voice joined in, this one familiar. "Is everything alright over here?"

A blonde woman approached and Desmond croaked, "Lucy?"

"Oh thank God," Rebecca breathed, sinking down to sit on the floor. "I thought we'd lost you."

"What happened?" Lucy asked, taking Desmond's hand and squeezing it.

"I thought I was Connor for a minute," Desmond told her, voice sounding like it had been shredded by broken glass.

"Bill's pushing you too far, too fast," Lucy said, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice. The illustrious leader of the Assassins had left right before Desmond had been plugged into the Animus that morning. "Your bleeding episodes will only get worse the more you're inside that machine."

"I know he is," Rebecca said, sounding defeated. "But we're running out of time to figure out how to save the world."

"So that makes us Abstergo?" Lucy snapped. "We have enough time to give Desmond the afternoon off."

"You're right," Rebecca agreed, springing back to her feet and unhooking Desmond from the animus. "We do." She smiled at him and said, "Go take a walk or something. Just don't come back to the Animus until dinner time."

"Yes ma'am," Desmond replied with a cheerful salute, relieved. For a moment, his legs wobbled underneath him when he tried to stand, Lucy and Rebecca rushing to help steady him. Once he was firm on his feet instead of swaying slightly the two women pulled away, Lucy discreetly slipping him a disposable cell phone as her hand brushed his. When he shot her a questioning look she mouthed, _Daniel_ , and he nodded as the last puzzle pieces of who he was slipped into place. The knowledge that he could have forgotten who he was and what he and his friends had planned, all because of his father's reckless disregard for the safety and well being of others made Desmond sick to his stomach. He stumbled a little, realizing that if the Apple hadn't shown him the future, that would have been his fate. Lucy wouldn't have been around to stand up to him by this point, and he would have had no other option but to obey and descend further into insanity in order to save the world.

Desmond picked up his pace, following the natural twists and turns of the cave that the Ones Who Came Before had turned into a temple of sorts. He was looking for a secluded place where he could call Daniel without having to worry about his conversation being overheard. The older man would likely still be in Finland with Ansa, provided that the two hadn't murdered each other by now, but hopefully they would have retrieved the Apple that the Finnish assassin had been struggling to get her hands on. The conversation would also give Desmond time to personally make sure everything was ready for the final stage of their plan, instead of getting reassurances second hand from Lucy. He settled in a dead end turn, sitting cross legged on the floor and hitting number two on the speed dial.

Lucy always made the first speed dial on her burner phones a current number where she could get into contact with Desmond. The second speed dial was always reserved for the current number for Daniel. That way she didn't have to try to recall an often changing phone number for one of them if she ran into trouble. The phone rang twice and then a gruff, sleep filled voice growled, " _What?"_

"You were already asleep at..." Desmond did some quick calculations, remembering that Finland was at least seven hours ahead of New York. "...seven?" The young man couldn't help the amusement that slipped into his voice. Daniel, rarely, if ever, went to bed before one in the morning. He tended to spend the late hours of the night gathering information or working and slept more during that daylight hours than he did after dark.

"Desmond?" Daniel questioned, sounding marginally more awake.

"Yeah, it's me," Desmond confirmed, grinning widely as he leaned back against the rough cave wall. "So what drove you to bed at seven o'clock?"

"I have had an incredibly long day," was Daniel's unamused reply. "Did you know that your crazy little friend over here had us break into an incredibly famous Finnish church in order to get the Apple?" Distantly, Desmond could hear Ansa's indignant voice carry across the line and he didn't have to understand what was being said to know that the blonde was protesting something, likely being called crazy, though there was a slight possibility she was protesting being referred to as Desmond's friend. He snickered as Daniel partially covered the speaker of the phone to snap something back at her in Russian. "Shut up, brat," Daniel said, hearing the laughter and sounding more amused than anything else.

"So you have the Apple then?" Desmond asked, just for clarification, as he focused on more serious matters.

"We have the Apple," Daniel confirmed. "I wanted to leave it with your little Finnish friend but she keeps insisting that she wants to help more with the plan." Ansa's voice spoke up again and Daniel paused before adding, "She just informed me that Lucy and I don't have a monopoly on caring about you and wanting to help you. There were some distinctly rude words mixed into the sentence in reference to me, but I think I'll leave those out."

Desmond quickly covered his mouth to stifle laughter, shoulders shaking with amusement. It took a minute for him to calm down, but when he could finally manage words again his muscles had released some of the tension he'd been carrying. "Good," he said. "We could use some extra help for the final phase of the plan. When do you head back to Abstergo?"

"Later this evening. My flight leaves at ten and takes close to nine hours. With the time difference, I'll be in at three in the morning by your time. I won't report in until eight, which gives me plenty of time to retrieve the Shard. From there it will be child's play to replace the Apple in the satellite with the Shard without any of the Abstergo employees noticing the change." Daniel paused and then asked, "Have you heard from our mysterious friend?"

Desmond shook his head, even though he knew Daniel couldn't see him. The young assassin hadn't heard from Luna since their conversation about removing suspicion from Daniel. "Not a word since my last conversation with her." There was a moment of silence as the two males considered that. "I'm sure she'll be there," Desmond said at last, mustering as much confidence as he could.

"Of course she will," Daniel said, tone relaxed. "She was the one who started us on that whole crazy journey in the first place. She's not going to miss the grand finale."

"Right," Desmond agreed, relaxing a little. Luna had been the one to show Desmond the future and she had pushed him to make a plan to change what he'd seen. There was no way that she'd miss the ending they had planned. "You'll call when you land, right?"

"As soon as it's safe to," Daniel promised. "Don't worry, Desmond. This is almost over."

"Right," Desmond said again, but this time he was talking to himself because Daniel had hung up.

Desmond sighed and slumped back against the wall. He knew he needed to get up and head back to the animus, if only to keep up appearances, but he didn't have the energy to move. He felt exhausted, as if he was play dough that a child had stretched so far that it had started getting holes in it. The longer he had to keep pretending to be incompetent in front of his father while secretly holding together a plot to save the world, the more the memories of his ancestors threatened to overtake him. Every day he got closer and closer to losing himself, and it terrified him. What happened if he completely lost himself? Would the world still be saved or would it be overtaken by fire? And if he was overtaken by his memories, would the Assassins accept Lucy and Daniel or would his father leave both of them to die?

"Desmond?" Lucy's voice broke through his growing worry, her footsteps tapping lightly on the stone as she approached him. Desmond knew her well enough by now to understand that she was only making her approach heard so that she wouldn't startle him. He appreciated the effort, even if it did make his heart try to pound its way out of his chest, a part of his brain insisting that anyone confident enough to approach their quarry without muffling each step had to be a serious threat. "Is everything okay?" Lucy asked once she got a good look of the expression on his face.

"Yeah," Desmond breathed out, voice wavering just a little. "Everything's fine."

"It doesn't look like everything's fine." Lucy settled down next to him, shoulder brushing against his. Desmond shrugged listlessly and leaned against her, not protesting when she reached up to start running her fingers through his hair. "Do you want to talk?"

"I think I'm losing it," he told her, allowing his eyes to drift closed. "I genuinely thought I was Conner when I came out of the animus, and the Bleeding Effect is only going to get worse from here." Lucy hummed and slid closer to him, her skin warm even through the barrier of her shirt, waiting for him to continue. "If the plan doesn't work, then I guess I won't have to worry about maintaining my sanity." He let out a little self-depreciating laugh and Lucy elbowed him in the ribs.

"Don't say things like that!"

"Sorry. I'm just worried." Desmond glanced down at his shoes, not wanting to see concern painted all over Lucy's face as he said, "There are so many variables and if something goes wrong, my stupid plan could cost you all your lives."

"We knew that when we started down this path and we accepted the risk, which you've done all you can to minimize, so if something happens to us, it isn't your fault." She cupped his head in her hands and turned it towards her, a slim smile on her face. "Now stop worrying yourself sick over what might happen. It won't do any of us any good." Then she leaned forward and kissed him chastely on the mouth. Desmond stared at her, stunned, and she smiled. "We should probably rejoin the others before they wonder where we've wandered off to."

"We should," Desmond agreed, standing reluctantly and offering Lucy a hand. Her slender, calloused fingers were warm in his hand and Desmond wanted to pull her close instead of returning to the Animus. He resisted the urge but kept holding Lucy's hand as the two of them made back towards the main room where the others were waiting.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

When Desmond woke up to someone kicking him sharply in the ribs, his first conscious thought was that he was disappointed it had taken the Templars this long to find them. He and Lucy had worked together to plant a pretty obvious trail leading back to their hiding spot, so it shouldn't have taken them three days to come collect a ragtag band of Assassins. Desmond winced when he was kicked again and rolled clumsily to his feet to the sound of Shaun's very indignant muttering. Rebecca was standing next to Shaun, looking small in the sweatshirt Desmond had handed her on the roof of the warehouse in New York. Desmond's dad was standing a few feet away from her, gagged and fuming. Obviously he'd managed to piss off the Templars in the short time between when he'd been woken and when they'd roughly roused Desmond. That, honestly, wasn't all that surprising.

Lucy had been separated from the group and was talking into a cell phone, her expression serious. Since Bill appeared to be trying to burn holes in her forehead with his eyes, Desmond guessed that she'd played the part of the traitor to perfection. Her eyes met his and she dipped her head once before saying, "I understand your concern Vidic, but I needed them to trust me."

Bill snarled something behind his gag and Rebecca's eyes lit up with fury. "You _bitch_!" she snarled, lunging forward as if intending to slap the blonde. "We trusted you!" One of the Templar agents nearby scrambled to restrain the brunette as Lucy stared at her impassively.

"I did my job," she informed Rebecca, voice cool. Desmond was impressed. Lucy's carefully crafted mask hadn't faltered once in the face of Rebecca's wrath and, technically, the blonde hadn't even lied. She was doing her job, it just wasn't the job everyone else thought she was performing.

Rebecca scowled, hands clenched into white knuckled fists as they were herded out of the cave and into a white van, its paint spattered liberally with slush and salt. Their hands and legs were bound before they were tossed in the back of the van and the doors were slammed shut. "Desmond, are you okay?" Rebecca asked, squirming around so that she was resting against his side with her knees digging into Shaun's hip.

"Yeah," he replied doing his best to put an uncertain waver in his voice. By the end of the day, if everything went according to plan, the Assassins would know that Lucy wasn't a traitor and the world would be saved. Until then, Desmond had to convince everyone around him that he was just as frightened and confused about what was going as they were. "I just...I didn't expect Lucy to..." He trailed off, as if he wasn't able to finish the sentence.

"Me either," Rebecca said in a dark tone.

The van rumbled to life and began bouncing along the dirt track that led to the main road. They were heading back to New York City to end this entire mess for good, and Desmond felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Whatever happened next was out of his hands. No last minute planning would be able to change the coming showdown with Vidic and the Templars, so all he had to do was sit back and play his part. Desmond allowed his eyes to drift shut, knowing that they would be driving for a few hours to reach Abstergo. The pace his father had set with the animus had been particularly grueling in the past few days, so he was going to do his best to catch up on sleep while he could.

_In his dreams, he stood inside a massive chamber made of white marble with streaks of brown running through it. Candles flickered inside sconces built into the wall, dimly lighting the dark room. A fireplace at the far end was filled with crackling orange-red flames. Luna sat on the edge of the fireplace, carefully stirring the flames. She turned to smile gently at him when he approached, folding her hands delicately on her lap. "Are you ready for what comes next?" she asked._

_"Are you?" he questioned in response.  
_

_"Everything is prepared on my end." Luna's lips curled up in a fond smile and she added, "You've done well, Desmond. You've played your cards correctly, and now all you have to do is relax and see the fruits of your labor."  
_

_"But what about Minerva and Juno?" Desmond couldn't help but ask. Luna's two sisters were completely out of his control, and he didn't like having two very unpredictable pieces on the chess board._

_Luna's lips curled in an almost feral smile and, as the world around them began to shift and fade, she said, "Leave my sisters to me."_

"Desmond, wake up," Rebecca hissed urgently, shoving at his shoulder. "I think we're here."

As if to prove her point, the back doors of the van were flung open, flooding Desmond's eyes with fluorescent light. He only had a moment to feel surprised before a hand grabbed his ankle and yanked him out of the van. Desmond lifted a hand to shield his stinging eyes and wobbled a bit as he was tugged along by the collar of his shirt. "Well, well, well," a familiar voice drawled. "What have we here?" Desmond blinked black spots away from his vision so he could see the tight grin on Daniel's face. "Little Desmond Miles. It is _so_ good to see you again." Despite the mocking tone, Daniel's eyes were calm and warm, reassuring Desmond that everything was going according to plan.

"You leave him alone!" Rebecca was thrashing between two guards that were struggling to restrain her, expression fierce. Daniel just smirked at her, tugging on Desmond's shirt so he was forced to rise up on his toes to avoid being choked.

"Warren Vidic wants to speak to all of you, but he's especially eager to see this one here." Daniel shook Desmond a little for emphasis, forcing him to reach up and grab Daniel's arm to keep from falling over.

"We don't have time for your little taunts, Cross," Lucy said, voice sharp as she stepped out of the passenger side of the car. "Vidic wants the Assassins to be present for our ultimate victory and that won't happen if you continue to taunt them."

Daniel scowled but Lucy didn't give him time to protest, sweeping by him like a queen on the way to her castle. The other Templars glanced at Daniel as if questioning whether or not they should follow the blonde. "You heard her," Daniel told them gruffly, already shifting and dragging Desmond after her. "Get the Assassins to the observatory."

"The Templars have a bloody _observatory_?" Desmond heard Shaun question incredulously as they were rushed through silent, empty hallways. Desmond didn't think that he'd ever seen Abstergo so silent and empty. The sight made his stomach twist uneasily. If Vidic or Juno had figured out what Desmond was planning then this would turn ugly incredibly quickly.

Daniel led them around a corner and through a heavy steel door. They trudged up a tight, spiral staircase, the metal steps clanging under their feet as they marched. There was no hand railing on the stairs, a choice that the builders in Middle Earth would have approved of, if Desmond remembered the movies correctly from the one time he'd seen them, so if someone slipped they could fall through the open circling in the center to hit the concrete below. Briefly Desmond found himself imagining Vidic slipping and falling from the top of the stairs to the bottom floor, one hand stretched out above him as if reaching for help. He shook the rather vengeful fantasy from his head, forcing himself to focus on the present when they reached the top of the stairs and Daniel pushed open another heavy, metal door.

The concrete floor of the observatory had been painted blue, silver stars forming scattered constellations across its surface. Desmond stumbled across Ursa Major as Daniel dragged him to the center of the room. He was released abruptly enough that he almost tripped over his own feet, something Daniel would have teased him endlessly about. The others were shoved to the center of the floor after him and one of the goons, unfortunately, decided it was time to remove Bill's gag. Then some of them hurried after Daniel and up another set of metal stairs, this time with railings, to spread out across a metal catwalk the circled the edge of the observatory, allowing people to look out the domed glass ceiling. Lucy was already standing on the catwalk, hands folded properly in front of her. Standing next to her was Warren Vidic, dressed in white robes that looked truly ridiculous on him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Desmond's father demanded, as if his fury alone would send the Templar Order scurrying back from wherever they'd first emerged.

"Welcome to the end of your world, Assassin," Vidic replied, spreading his hands expansively as if unveiling a new work of art before an awed crowd.

"What are you talking about?" Bill sounded as if he was questioning Vidic's sanity. To be fair, if Desmond hadn't know exactly what was going on, he probably would have been in the same boat.

"The Abstergo satellite has just been launched through the atmosphere and into space," Vidic explained, a manic grin fixed on his face. "In it is the Apple of Eden from Masyaf, which has the ability to control the minds and bodies of human beings. Daniel Cross found it miraculously undamaged after a previous satellite crash when searching for a different one. With the Apple broadcasting across the world, the Templars will be in control and the Assassins will no longer exist." Rebecca let out a soft gasp of shock and horror, Shaun muttered curse under his breath, and Desmond's father was actually rendered speechless. "Isn't it wonderful?" Vidic asked, clapping his hands together delightedly. "Years of conflict and needless bloodshed will finally end and the Templars will be able to finally turn the world from chaos into order."

Desmond glanced at Lucy, who very deliberately winked at him, and smiled. "I wouldn't be too sure about that." Vidic's eyes narrowed and he scowled as if Desmond had personally offended him.

"And what, exactly, do you mean by that?"

"I have to admit, it's a well thought out plan. Once you'd discovered the capabilities of Altair's Apple of Eden, all you would have needed to do was find it, rewire your satellite a bit before the launch, and the world would have been yours. It was a good plan. It just had one little problem in the execution." Desmond was enjoying watching the confusion and rage twisting around in Vidic's eyes as he spoke. After so long being forced to cater to the whims of others, it was really nice to be the one in control of the situation for once. "Altair's Apple never made it inside your satellite."

"B-But that's impossible," Vidic sputtered. "Cross safeguarded the Apple and personally placed it in the satellite so it couldn't be stolen."

"What Daniel Cross placed inside your satellite was not an Apple of Eden, but he's already well aware of that," Desmond replied, not bothering to hide his grin.

"I don't understand," Vidic snarled, face turning a brilliant, angry red color. "Why would Cross help _you?"_

"Oh I don't know," Daniel drawled, leaning against the railing like a smug cat with the unconscious body of the Templar guards laying beside him. "Maybe because you threw me aside like trash after you were done with me. Or maybe it was because the world was going to be consumed in fire and the only one trying to save it was the kid. The reason really doesn't matter though. What matters is that I'm loyal to Desmond Miles, not you."

"As am I," Lucy added, making Vidic turn shocked eyes on her.

He wasn't stunned for long. Vidic lunged backwards, fumbling for a moment before pulling out a pistol and aiming it at Lucy's head, shrieking, " _Kill them!"_

Guns cocked, but Daniel and Lucy were already moving. The first bullet pinged as it bounced off the railing next to Daniel's arm before the unfortunate Templar's neck was snapped in a single swift movement. The next man scrambled back, only to let out a startled screech when Ansa burst out of an air vent, sending the guard flying over the railing and crashing head first to the floor. The crack of his skull breaking out was almost drowned out by Vidic's pained cry as Lucy snapped his wrist to get the gun away from him, aiming it at the old man's head. "It's over, Vidic," she told him, cold as ice. "You've lost."

Vidic's mouth twisted into a feral snarl, spit dripping from his lips as he hissed at the blonde, and Desmond realized that the Templar had lost all hold on his sanity. Vidic lunged forward, hands curved like claws, and Lucy calmly emptied the clip into his head. The bullets shredded through his skull, a fine red mist spraying in the air and spattering her pale face as he collapsed on the catwalk dead. Ansa and Daniel had both turned at the sound of the gunshots, dropping the last two unconscious or dead Templar agents at their feet in almost identical careless motions. When they saw that the last threat had been eliminated they relaxed, Daniel reaching into his coat pocket to remove a golden sphere.

"Here, Des," he said, tossing the object, and Desmond reached out to catch Altair's Apple of Eden. "This is yours." The sphere was warm when it landed int Desmond's hands and his eyes widened as it began to glow.

White light sliced out of it in bright beams, obscuring his vision. The last thing he heard was Lucy's voice screaming, " _Desmond!"_ before the world was washed away in white.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only an epilogue and one chapter of deleted scenes left in this story. Thank you to everyone who stuck with this!

The white light faded and Desmond blinked a couple of times in an attempt to clear his vision. He appeared to be standing in some kind of completely white chamber, carved columns rising up to vanish into the vast white area above him. The floor looked like it was made of clouds that constantly twisted and shifted beneath Desmond's battered sneakers but when he took a cautious step forward, it felt remarkably solid. Juno was standing a few feet away from him, her white garments making her almost invisible. If it wasn't for her dark hair, Desmond might have completely passed her by at first glance. Her eyes blazed with fury when they met his and her lips twisted into a vicious snarl. " _You_ ," she hissed, lunging forward and attempting to grab him by the throat. Desmond barely scrambled out of the way, eyes wide and the Apple still clutched tightly in one hand. "You ruined everything!"

"I saved the world," he retorted and Juno hissed like a cat.

"You _cheated_."

"He won, sister," Minerva's voice said and she stepped around a column. She looked worn, as if a great weight had been placed on her shoulders, but there was a proud glint to her eyes when she looked at Desmond.

"He cheated," Juno insisted, voice rising to a screech. "He knew what was going to happen before the game even began."

"We knew the possibilities as well," Minerva countered. "It is only fair that he was made aware of the possible outcomes at the outset of our competition."

Juno's face flushed at that and she let out a little, furious screech, this time actually managing to grab Desmond when she lunged at him. He choked, hands rising up to scratch against skin that felt like granite. Juno ignored his best efforts to escape, hoisting him up into the air, but she couldn't ignore the ground breaking open beneath her with a sound like a thunderclap. Juno's fingers slipped free of Desmond's throat as she dropped through the floor and he let out a startled, breathless cry as he fell after her. The air around them was growing dark, and when he got brave enough to look down he saw a swirling pit of darkness sucking Juno in.

When he followed her through the vortex, it felt like all the air had been dragged out of his lungs. The two of them crashed into tall savanna grass that rustled in a wind Desmond couldn't feel. Minerva dropped down a moment later. Her graceful landing was ruined when she stumbled over the edge of her dress and crumpled to her knees. "Both of you are behaving disgracefully," a cold voice said and the huntress that had helped save Lucy's life weaved her way silently through the grass. "I am ashamed to be related to two grown women who cannot accept their losses and move on," Diana said, surveying them both coldly. Luna stood behind her sister, a hand covering her mouth to keep the laughter in.

"I have accepted the loss," Minerva protested, lunging to her feet. Her dress was stained with grass and dirt and her hands trembled at her sides.

"You manipulated a Piece of Eden to bring Desmond Miles to our domain, putting him in a position where he was forced to confront Juno," was Diana's frigid response. "I would hardly consider that accepting the loss in a mature manner." Minerva opened her mouth to protest but Diana's lifted hand silenced any further protests. It did not, however, stall Juno, who had finally made it to her feet, face flushed an ugly red color.

"How dare you interfere," she snarled, spit flying from her lips in silvery globs. "This boy meddled with divinely ordained plans and-"

" _Divinely ordained?_ " Diana scoffed, with a dismissive flutter of her fingertips. "We are not gods, sister. We are simply longer lived than the humans, though it doesn't seem that those long years have made us wiser."

"Perhaps we have made some foolish choices during the course of our game," Minerva cut in with a graceful dip of her head. "But it was intended to give a human representative a choice when faced with the coming disaster."

"And your choice was between mass extinction or a life of subservience to Juno, who would raise herself up as a goddess to be worshiped." Luna's voice was furious as she lunged around Diana to jab an accusing finger at Minerva and Juno. "You intended to make a human being choose between two terrible options without even giving them the proper context to understand what was happening. You wanted to turn Desmond into a pawn so that you could regain what you felt was owed to you. I simply gave him the information he should have had in the first place."

" _You_ -" Juno hissed, puffing up like an offended cat, but Diana cut her off before she could even get into her angry tirade.

"Father is very displeased with the two of you," She said, arching an unimpressed eyebrow in Juno's direction. "He told us long ago that our time had passed and that we were to leave the humans alone unless we wanted to help them. He does not see anything that the two of you have done in the past years as helping humanity, and once he is finished having words with Jupiter, he wants to speak to both of you. I suggest that you do not keep him waiting."

Desmond expected Juno to protest or Minerva to attempt to worm her way out of being included in the meeting, but both of them paled and shrunk inwards. Luna turned an adoring smile towards Diana and said, "If you want to escort Juno and Minerva to father, I can see Desmond safely home."

"Be safe," was Diana's simple response, a calloused hand reaching over to gently squeeze Luna's shoulder before she stepped around the smaller woman to collect Juno and Minerva. The three vanished in a blaze of glowing light that had Desmond lifting a hand to shield his eyes. When his vision cleared, Luna was standing in front of him and positively beaming.

"You did it!" she said, hands clasped under her chin as she bounced a couple times on the balls of her feet. "You saved the world from sun flares without unleashing Juno on it." Desmond practically beamed at her and impulsively lunged forward to pull her into a hug. Luna stiffened for a moment, startled, and then hugged him back with a delighted laugh. "Congratulations, Desmond," she said and he had to press his face into her shoulder to hide his happy tears.

"Thanks," he said a moment later, stepping back and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "But I couldn't have done it without you."

"I think you could have," Luna replied, tilting her head back so she could beam up at him. "All I gave you was a warning. You did everything else yourself." When Desmond opened his mouth to protest, she lifted a finger to his mouth to hush him. "Ready to go back home?" Her free hand was dripping with white light that overflowed from her palm and spattered onto the ground with a hiss, wilting the grass that it touched instantly. She held it out towards him, but he didn't reach out to take it.

"I have one last question for you before I have to go," Desmond told her and she smiled at him.

"Okay." Luna tilted her head to one side, her hair drifting over her shoulder. "Ask and if I am able to answer, I will."

"Will I ever see you again?"

Luna's expression turned thoughtful and her eyes closed for a moment as she considered the question. "You know, I honestly don't know," she told him. "But if I get a chance, and if Father ever lets any of us wander the Earth again, I'll come visit. I promise."

"Good," Desmond told her. "I'd hate to have one of my friends vanish into thin air just because we're no longer trying to save the world."

Luna's cheeks flushed and she looked down at her feet, a pleased smile on her face. "I've never really had a friend before, aside from some of my siblings."

"I think you were my first friend too." Desmond's own face felt warm but he met Luna's eyes when she beamed up at him. "So you have to come visit me, okay?"

"Okay," Luna agreed. "Now, let's get you home." She lifted her hand, still filled with liquid light, and Desmond took it. For a moment his palm was warm, almost uncomfortably so. Then the world began to spin and blur around him. He squeezed his eyes shut, stomach lurching uncomfortably, and only opened them when he heard Lucy's voice calling his name.

"Desmond, are you okay?" she asked, blonde hair spilling over her shoulder as she leaned down to rest her forehead gently against his.

"Yeah," he croaked, voice sounding surprisingly rough. "I'm okay."

"Then maybe you can explain to us what just happened." Daniel's voice promised retribution if Desmond didn't tell him what was going on.

"Juno and Minerva were...a little unhappy about the way things turned out," Desmond explained, allow Lucy to help him sit up. "I think they pulled me into some kind of pocket dimension to get revenge, but Luna took care of them."

"Only you could get into that much trouble just by touching a Piece of Eden," Daniel said, shaking his head and reaching out to ruffle Desmond's hair. Desmond made a little, disgruntled noise and swatted half-heartedly at Daniel's hand before shakily making his way to his feet, Lucy rising with him and steadying him. Rebecca was flat out gaping at them and Shaun's eyebrows had risen into his hairline with astonishment but, predictably, Desmond's father had turned and marched away as soon as he was unbound. Desmond had no doubt that his father would attempt to express his displeasure later, but he was equally confident that Daniel would quickly put a stop to any attack.

"What just happened?" Rebecca asked, her voice just shy of demanding answers.

"It's, uh..." Desmond just barely stopped himself from saying it was a long story because it really wasn't. Rebecca and Shaun already knew about Juno and Minerva's little interjections during their search, so explaining what had just happened wasn't all that complicated. It was explaining to them everything up to this point that would take a while. "Juno and Minerva didn't exactly get the outcome they were hoping for," he told them. "So they pulled me into the Apple to vent their frustrations."

"So that's it?" Rebecca replied skeptically. "They just wanted to yell at you a little for ruining their master plan and once they were done, they sent you on your way."

"It's not quite that simple," Desmond admitted. "But the full explanation would take a lot longer to get through." He left the fact that they probably shouldn't linger in a Templar owned facility longer than they had to unsaid. The others were smart enough to figure that out on their own.

Rebecca and Shaun exchanged a glance that Desmond couldn't quite read. Then Rebecca nodded once and turned back to him. "Okay, but you're definitely telling us the full story later."

"I promise," Desmond told her, smiling a little when he heard Daniel let out a little huff of exasperation. "I trust them," he added, glancing up at the other man with a half smile. "Besides, if they turn out to be trouble, you'll take care of it."

"I just wish you wouldn't make my job more difficult than it already is," came the response, filled with all the long-suffering patience of an older sibling with a particularly troublesome younger one.

"I don't try to make your job difficult. Stuff just happens," Desmond found himself whining even as he allowed himself to be guided towards the exit.

Rebecca giggled and, from her position at the door, Ansa called, "If guarding Desmond's life is too difficult for the Russian grouch, I'll just have to take over for him."

"As if I'd let you guard him," was Daniel's quick response.

"I'm not the one who wanted to walk into the church in broad daylight."

"At least my plan involved less hoping for the best and slaughtering every Templar in sight than yours did."

"That doesn't make it any better."

Desmond grinned and tucked his arm through Lucy's, contentedly listening to Daniel and Ansa bickering all the way out of the observatory, past the dead bodies the Finnish Assassin had left in her wake, and through the front door. Ansa pulled open the van door, still arguing vehemently with Daniel over whose plan had been the more logical choice during their shared mission, and gestured him through. He stepped inside, settling behind Daniel, who had taken the driver's seat despite Bill's protesting, and Lucy settled next to him with a contented hum. Everything might not have been perfect, but Desmond was surrounded by friends and the world wasn't going to be destroyed any time soon, so he was going to count it as a win. They could worry about everything else that might go wrong tomorrow.


End file.
